A pebble that starts it all
by mismatchedbutterflywings
Summary: Catelyn notices the expression on her daughters face, and when she decides to do something about it, she becomes the pebble that starts the ripple effect.Told from all of the Stark's points of view, (and Gendry), this is a modern AU that revolves around Arya and Gendry's wedding at Winterfell..and of course you'll see: Arya/Gendry mentions of Sansa/Willas, Robb/Jeyne..enjoy!
1. A pebble that starts it all

**This is a modern AU prompt about Gendry and Arya's wedding at Winterfell, told from all of the Stark's point of view (and Gendry's), per chapter! This is a work-in-progress so reviews and constructive criticism are more than welcomed! :)**

**I own nothing. All rights to GRRM**

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**CATELYN**

Today had been an even busier day than yesterday.

She had mentally listed her agenda for the day and checked each item off as she went about to complete them. It was proving to be an arduous task given how she was garbed in a very elegant, body-hugging, dark-blue dress with a long tail, that made it almost difficult to see the success of Arya's wedding ceremony.

She was proud of her daughter; happy and relieved that she had finally found someone she was able to settle down with.

Especially since that someone was a person who was as charming and special as only Arya's fiance could be.

Catelyn had managed to pop into Arya's room to check up on her. In the very capable hands of Sansa, Catelyn didn't have to worry so much about her youngest daughter.

_My, how beautiful she had looked in that wedding dress. _

Catelyn sighed as she scanned the backyard,where the wedding ceremony would be held.

Everything was in order and the guests would be arriving soon. She had managed to check that all the food was perfect and that the right wedding cake had been delivered.

_The cake mishap yesterday had definitely made everyone alert. But it wasn't the mistake so much as Sansa's rage. _

Everything was going smoothly now, yet Catelyn couldn't help but feel as if something imminently horrible would happen.

_I'm probably just exhausted._

In all honesty, everything was perfect and she didn't know why she was so exhausted.

Ned had told her to sit down and had handed her a glass of some arbor wine. But instead, Catelyn had downed the wine in one shot, pecked a kiss on Ned's cheek before she had to fit Rickon into his suit.

Come to think of it, it had been getting her boys ready that had left her huffing in exhaustion.

_And herding their giant companions into one room._

Despite her children's protests, Catelyn could not allow their pets to roam about freely and frighten the guests. She didn't like locking them up in the house and stripping them off their freedom to roam, but being a host, she had to see to the comfort of her guests.

And of course her children's "Direwolves"(that was what they liked to call them), had given her a difficult time as she tried to herd them into the farthest room, away from where the guests would be.

She sighed for what may have been the umpteenth time that day.

Catelyn had been leaning onto the great white bark of the heart tree, an empty glass of arbor wine in one hand, while she mulled over the preparations of the morning.

She had remembered how Arya was so keen to have her wedding the old way-right by the heart tree in sight of the gods.

She had to smile at her spirited daughter.

Catelyn herself had been married by the heart tree and the experience was one she would never forget. Despite the eerie ancientness of the great Heart tree, she had liked how it felt.

Her train of thoughts ended as she heard the faint crunching of gravel which could only mean that a vehicle was currently being parked in their driveway.

_And so it begins._

The guests would be making their way to the backyard, where she had her boys roll out the finest Myrish carpet they owned so that the guests wouldn't have to worry about staining their expensive shoes.

She smoothed her up-do, stood beside a waiter carrying a tray of glasses filled with rich Arbor wine,(she had ordered him to welcome the guests with a glass of it),and waited as the first guests came into view.

The Tyrells were making their way towards her, all smiles, save for Madame Olenna Tyrell, whose face was scrunched up at the glare of the sun.

Margery looked stunning in the simple light blue, bridesmaids dress with her dark hair flowing down her back. She was wheeling Willas, who looked handsome than ever in his suit and green tie and right behind them were Loras, in a yellow suit, (Which didn't surprise Catelyn at all) and Madame Olenna who took Loras' arm as he guided her.

Catelyn noticed that her bodyguards weren't with her today, and thanked the gods for that since they wouldn't have a table to sit at if they did come.

"Mrs Stark! You look stunning!" Catelyn's daughter-in-law embraced her with such vehement joy that Catelyn almost fell back.

Margery could be too ecstatic sometimes but her energy and excitement could diffuse any awkward tension at any party. Loras was next to embrace her, and she thanked the gods he wasn't jumping up and down like Margery was.

Catelyn watched as he pulled out of the hug and studied her outfit with a look of serious contemplation overwhelming his handsome features.

"Charming dress!" He said at last, with a dazzling grin on his face.

"I wonder who designed it.." He teased.

Loras had just released his own fashion line and after Catelyn had seen one of his ads in _Westeros Women Weekly_, she had asked if he could design a dress for her to wear at Arya's wedding. She had loved it of course, but Catelyn secretly wished for the hem to be shorter and blamed herself for it since she had forgotten to mention her preferred length.

"It fits me perfectly! Thank you, Loras. Madame Olenna! Welcome! Is the wine to your liking?" Catelyn asked.

"It's divine, Catelyn! But, I would prefer some Strongwine, if you please. I hear the Lannister bitch is attending this event, and I need as much Strongwine as I need. An intolerable woman, that one." Madame Olenna tutted before placing her empty glass on the tray while she slipped her arm through Loras' to guide her.

Willas was wheeling himself towards her as the rest of his family walked off to greet Catelyn's.

"Willas! It's good to see you back! Sansa has missed you quite dearly!" She gave him a fond smile before she wheeled him to where everyone was.

"I apologize if my grandmother has given offense, Mrs Stark. She can be quite rude sometimes." He chuckled.

"Oh, there's nothing to apologize for Willas dear! Would you like some wine?" She motioned for one from a waiter and was quite impressed by how quick they were to hand it to her.

Catelyn made a mental note to thank them all later with a tip.

As her family made small talk with the Tyrells, Catelyn realized that someone was missing. She did a quick headcount.

_There should be seven Starks (excluding herself), but there were only four here and two upstairs..._.

_Bran._

_Gods, he better be on his way._

She convinced herself that he would be reaching anytime now, although part of her doubted so. Instead, Catelyn decided to busy herself with last minute detail-orienting before retreating into the house and indulging herself with solitude.

Catelyn was too busy imagining the delights of the comfy sofa that was calling her name, that she hadn't seen Sansa rushing up to her. They bumped into each other with a force that left her right side throbbing. Thankfully her dress was unharmed.

"Sansa! I'd never thought I would ever have to say this to you, but we **do not** run in the house!" Catelyn scolded.

"Oh, mum I'm sorry, I really need to get working on Arya's hair! She threatened she would change her mind about styling her hair if I don't hurry! AND HER MAKE UP! Mother you simply cannot allow this to happen! We don't have much time!1"

Catelyn swore she could here the _1_ in her daughter's voice.

"Alright! Calm down, Sansa!" Catelyn laughed.

"Sorry, Mother. I'm exhausted and I didn't get any sleep at all last night because the wedding cake made me so nervous! AND THEN BRAN WOULDN'T T PICK UP MY CALLS! But he should be arriving with Jojen and Meera soon - I hope. And I think I might have forgotten to get -"

"Sansa! All those things have been taken care of, thanks to you! And Bran will be here shortly! You've done beautifully my dear, now all I ask is for you to calm down, take a deep breath, and stop worrying! Nothing will go wrong, not under our watches!" She promised, although that part with Bran she couldn't quite agree.

Catelyn released her hands that have been clasping her daughter's cheeks. She had done that when Sansa was younger, when she was upset or angry or frustrated and it had always managed to make her daughter calm down and focused.

"You're right, mother. I should go and see to Arya now." She exhaled with a reassuring smile and smoothed her hair down, in a fluid motion.

"Good. Now speaking of Arya, I want you to take it easy on her as well, alright? I think she must be nervous as it is, and the last thing we need is trouble with the bride." Catelyn advised.

She had seen the look on Arya's face when she thought no one was looking. Her grey doe eyes were wide with fear, her pink-stained lips slightly ajar as she looked up at Catelyn. Arya had looked scared, as if it was her first day back at preschool again.

Catelyn remembered how her youngest daughter had once clung to her skirts, unwilling to let go as the teacher made to grab her. She wanted more than anything to wrap Arya in her tight, motherly embrace and whisper words of comfort into her ears. But Arya was already 24 and Catelyn knew, if anything, that her little spirited child will be fine.

Sansa hugged her quickly and pecked her cheek, before rushing gracefully up the stairs.

Catelyn looked around the empty house, just to be sure that she was completely alone before she could succumb to relaxation. Luwin must be attending to the buffet table and she had given her household staff a day off. And why on earth did she do that?

_Oh yes, because she didn't want Sansa to have more things to worry about. _

_Speaking of worrying about things..._

Catelyn found her phone lying on a tabletop and dialed Bran's number.

It rang seven times before he answered.

"Hello?" His voice was raspy and heavy as if he had only **_just_ **gotten up.

"BRANDON! Are you only just awake?" She had suspected this but hearing the evidence itself was enough to make Catelyn's blood boil.

"What? _What time is_...OH. MY. GODS. MUM I OVERSLEPT! I"M SORRY I LOST TRACK OF..._wake up_...I'LL BE THERE SOON MUM. LOVE YOU, BYE.._holy shit_..."

"Brandon! We do not swear in this-"

But he had hung up.

Catelyn huffed in annoyance and thanked the Gods that at least Rickon, Robb and Jon were already outside. As she made her way into the living room, she made another mental note to give Bran a scolding for his tardiness.

Catelyn sighed as she laid down onto the large, red couch and propped her legs up at its armrests.

She decided this was the only chance she would get to relax for the morning and given that she would have to deal with Cersei and Lysa when they arrived, she figured a five minute rest would do her some good.

She settled down comfortably onto the velvet couch, and before she knew it, she had dozed off into a sweet dream where direwolves were chasing each other in a circle around what seemed to be Lyanna Stark in white.

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**I hope it hasn't been too draggy! ****And don't worry about the lack of Gendry and Arya interaction because I ensure you this fanfic will be nothing short of it. At this point I may or may not continue, but I've already written Sansa, Jon's and Gendry's P.O.V.s, so I might just post them! Thanks to everyone who has been following my other fanfiction and all the favorites, so I hope you guys like this one because this one was for you! And it was really fun to write! Reviews would make my day :)**

**Also, please tell me if you think I've gone OOC (out of character) with any of George's characters! **


	2. Just this once

**So this is Sansa's POV. And with Sansa's POV, comes some mushiness and fluff? Sansa's POV takes about an hour or two after her interaction with Cat. So Bran should already be present along with more guests of course.**

**I own nothing, all rights to GRRM..**

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**SANSA**

It was a gorgeous shade of ivory.

And the strapless , a-line gown made of Tulle and _Peau de soie_ satin fitted her sister like a glove.

"How do I look?" Arya asked sheepishly.

Her face held a worried expression and the stormy grey doe eyes of hers were totally unreadable.

But once Sansa took a few steps back and scanned her little sister, all the air was knocked out of her. She had never seen such radiance and beauty grace her sister like so.

_Arya was so beautiful._

Sansa had half a mind to call her whole family up again just to look at Arya glowing with such beauty. But they were probably busy entertaining guests.

_Well everyone was definitely going to be wowed._

Sansa, to Arya's dismay,had styled Arya's short, dark hair into soft ringlets that fell gracefully up to her bare shoulders. Arya's fringe had been styled so that it fell prettily to one side of her forehead and Sansa had delicately taken a few strands of Arya's hair from each side of her head, and pinned it to the back of her head with a pin, in the shape of a small stag's head.

Sansa had admired the stag hair pin for all its intricacy and the tiny grey diamonds that encrusted the Stag's head and neck. The colour of its diamond eyes were as blue as the eyes of Arya's fiance.

Sansa's heart melted for her sister.

The hairpin had to be a symbol of their love for each other because Sansa doubted that Gendry had unknowingly purchased a hairpin that matched Arya's stormy eyes and his blue ones, or the fact that the stag head held Winterfell's colours. The gesture was too sweet for Sansa and she had sighed as she kissed Arya's head.

Arya was truly lucky to have such a thoughtful fiance.  
And Sansa couldn't have thought of a better man who was so perfect for her sister.

She accentuated Arya's prominent Northern features, by going with the natural look, and adopted all nude colors; since Arya preferred it that way. When she was done dolling Arya up, Sansa had taken a long, hard look at Arya's face and came to a pleasing conclusion that no one will be able to take their eyes off her. Her soft, grey doe eyes were lined with faint black eyeliner, her lips painted a sheer baby pink that gave a lovely, light pink sheen to her thin lips. Sansa had made Arya look like a modern day princess!

She smiled at her work.

At one point in her life, Sansa had envied her sister who held so much more of the North in her than she did. She knew that she had been the prettier of the both of them when they were younger, but Sansa had felt as if she wasn't part of her own family at times because she didn't look at all as if she was from the North (Although Robb, Bran and Rickon adopted the same Tully features, they certainly had Stark qualities about them and Sansa felt as if she didn't, and even if she had, she didn't know what they were). Although people had complimented her for it, she secretly wished that they could see her for the Stark that she was.

Madame Olenna had said that the South had totally changed her. But Sansa secretly disagreed.

_Not entirely._

Being in the South meant remembering most of her childhood, when she had stayed at Kings Landing city with Arya and her father.

She rolled her eyes at how she used to love looking like her mother, her naivety and the memories that went with it that also involved a certain golden haired boy with evil emerald eyes and a sour personality to match.

_No. Stop. Think of..of..Highgarden and the flowers that bloom in the Spring. Yeah..there was too much flower porn for her and she was so giddy from all the colors and roses and the smell of them in the air..._

Thankfully, Sansa was happily married to Willas now and although a part of her was unwilling to leave Winterfell to live with her husband in Highgarden, she had done so dutifully and because she loved Willas(who was everything **_he_** wasn't). Sweet, smart, caring, Willas.

Her smile widened at the memory of their wedding in Highgarden. How everything had looked as if it came right out of a fairy tale setting, with the topiary bouquets of white roses lining the aisle, the white-wood seats with vines spiraling around the legs and arms and the fairy lights that had were hung from the small trees to create a mystic atmosphere. Sansa remembered how extravagant her wedding had been and even though she didn't want to admit it, Sansa had been nervous before the wedding and she was afraid something bad might happen. Although nothing did; and she got over it and as she walked down the aisle, in the most beautiful wedding gown ever, her eyes were trained only on Willas, who had looked so dashing in his tuxedo.

"_Saan-Saa.._" Her train of thoughts halted to a stop when Arya called out her name.

She looked up to see Arya frowning.

"Well?!" Arya demanded after a few seconds of silence.

"Well What?"_ Honestly_. A minute ago Arya had looked the perfect bride, but then she opens her mouth and -

"HOW. DO. I. LOOK?" She demanded again, but there was an odd look on her face. It was as if Arya was-

_Was she getting self-conscious about this?_

It is her wedding day after all, but Sansa had thought she'd adopted the, 'let's-just-get-on-with-this-and-be-done-with-it' kind of attitude instead of fussing for perfection.

"Fine! You look stunning, Arya! Now, why are you getting so worked up?" Sansa huffed.

"Why? Sansa, in case you haven't noticed, I'm getting married?! MARRIED! I will be a wife. A. WIFE?! And this is me we're talking about and let's be honest, I will make a terrible wife!" She was yelling now. Her eyes, wide with horror, as if the concept of marriage had only just sunk in.

There was that familiar look on Arya's face. Her eyes were focused intently onto the floor and she was practically gnawing her lower lip- a sign she was mentally debating with herself.

Sansa was dazed.

Completely and utterly dazed. For a minute there it almost seemed as if Arya had-

She gasped the instant she realized what it was, and her mother's words rang loud in her ears.

_..the last thing we need is trouble with the bride._

"You're not having cold feet are you?!" Even though Sansa didn't mean to, it sounded as if she was accusing her little sister.  
Her insides twisted, and Sansa prayed silently, to the Old gods, the New gods, to all the Gods, that she wasn't.

_Gendry will have a fit! Mother will have a fit! Seven hells everyone will have a fit, since they drove all the way to Winterfell for the wedding!_

The skirts of the ivory gown spun almost dramatically as her sister turned away from her to face the window.

"I...N-No. Of course not. I love him. I'm just-just nervous,okay?" She could hear how forced her reassurance was and wondered if Arya could hear it too.

"You look like you're having second thoughts." Sansa muttered as she picked at the frays of the armchair, though she wasn't sure that Arya could here her, since Arya was standing on the other side of the room,with her back to her. That is, until Arya faced her again, eyes averted onto the Myrish-carpeted floor.

As Arya raised her head to look at her, Sansa noted the mortified look on her face.

_Oh Seven hells, I shouldn't have been so harsh on her..._

"_That's because I am_." Her voice was barely a whisper, but Sansa heard her all the same.

She hadn't realized she had been holding her breath until she heard herself exhale heavily.

"Is it bad that I'm having second thoughts, Sansa?" She could hear the quiver in Arya's voice.

Sansa couldn't help but feel it was her duty to make sure, that on this special day, her sister would wear the widest of grins. She could only imagine how Arya was feeling. Marriage is a big commitment, and Arya is a free spirit.

"No. It isn't! Arya, it's normal to feel this way. Trust me. You'll be fine." Her words were soothing even to herself and the softened expression on Arya's face calmed Sansa down.

_"The last thing we need is trouble with the bride."_

Sansa watched her sister from the armchair she was seated in, as Arya paced the carpeted floors, taking in Sansa's reassurance.

"If you say so...But...But I feel horrible for having doubts! It's like I don't fucking love him enough to go through with this?!" Arya wailed.

Sansa cringed at the cuss, but she had never known her sister to feel openly bad about things; because when she did, she'd be very discreet about it. Arya was too proud sometimes, but when she wanted to, her sister could be the sweetest person Sansa had ever known.

And she knew Arya loved Gendry more than anything in the world. And he, her!

This is not a problem!

_"..not under our watches."_

_Yes. Not under my__ watch._

"Arya, the cold feet will be gone as soon as you walk down the aisle and see him. I promise! Or have you forgotten that I'm a married woman myself?"She comforted.

Her sister had the sense to look ashamed.

"You're right. Ugh...trust me Sansa, I don't like making this about me." She huffed.

She was about to tell her how today _is_ her day,but the way her sister plopped down onto a Maroon Myrish armchair, made her cringe with worry at the creases that will soon form on that beautiful, darling dress.

She stopped herself and mulled over what her mother had advised her this morning.

_ "..I want you to take it easy on her as well, alright? I think she must be nervous as it is, and the last thing we need is trouble with the bride."_

Arya looked like she could take a break and Gods knew she did too.

_Why are you so uptight, Sansa?  
__So what if this wasn't planned? So what if the bride leaves for a few minutes?  
But...she might run into Gendry..NO NO! ..but, she looks so jittery...No, Gendry will be as far away from Arya possible.  
Jon will sic Ghost on him if he so much as takes one footstep out of the threshold of the guestroom.  
It's okay, I've seen to that.  
__Sansa, stop being so uptight. She needs this._

_Arya needs this. _

The silence in the room was so unnerving.  
Arya was just staring at the floor, biting her lower lip.

_Seven hells!__HER LIP GLOSS IS ALMOST GONE!1__. _

_Sansa take it easy on her. Mom was right,she's always right.  
It's not as if everything's going to crumble down because you let Arya take a short break. _

Sansa eyed her sister, and although she really didn't like to stray from her agenda, she felt as if this had to be just one exception.

_Oh...__  
_

"Arya, why don't you go get some fresh air? It's a little stuffy in here after all." Sansa finally suggested, as she made to grab her purse from the round table by the armchair.

Arya's head lifted from her hands, her grey eyes wide with surprise.

"Really? Sansa you're okay with that?!" Arya eyed her suspiciously but a grin was slowly forming on her face.

"Yes. You look like you could use some fresh air. Oh! But, please don't leave the house? The guests are piling in, and no one should see you, but.._oh_...Just go! Before I change my mind!" Sansa caved in, waving Arya away as she buried her face into her lap.

Before she knew it, Arya had erupted into a series of, 'thank you'_s,_ grabbed her coat, pecked her sister's right cheek and hurried out of the room, leaving Sansa startled, dubious and just a tad bit suspicious.

Nevertheless, she plopped back down onto the comfortable Myrish armchair she had been sitting on, buried her head in her hands and groaned unattractively.

Being Arya's maid of honor was exhausting.

Sansa allowed herself another groan before she strode to the long standing mirror and inspected her light blue bridesmaids dress for any fraying threads,stains or creases.

She liked the blue dress and the way it flowed to the top of her knees. It went well with the decorations Sansa had picked out. The theme was "The Old way" - with grey, white and blue colors of Winterfell.

The set-up had a quaint and slightly bucolic feel about it, especially in their spacious backyard with the altar by the great Heart tree. Everything contrasted so nicely!

The blue and grey streamers hung in the air as they were stretched loosely from branches of the heart tree all the way to the poles that were pitched into the ground.

There wasn't a need for a massive party tent since the sun had been shining hard for days and Arya liked it better that way. Given her way, Sansa would've had more flowers lining the columns of seats, but Arya had not wanted something as grandiose as that, and instead, they had placed a few large white topiary flower stands, holding a bouquet of white and blue flowers that lined the seating aisles leading all the way to the altar.

It was so simple, yet it created such a lovely atmosphere that Sansa couldn't help but feel accomplished and proud. She had planned the whole thing(not without consulting Arya and Gendry's preferences of course and with the help of her family), but, still, the feeling of euphoria was one she would not easily dismiss.

This was her work.

And she was pleased with the way it had turned out.  
Despite the cake mishap yesterday, and the Meereenese lobsters that had came in place of the Braavosi lobsters she had ordered a month before the wedding,(Seriously, how could they have messed that up?) and the band that had almost forgotten that they were booked for this day, Sansa felt that she did alright.

_"Worrying does nothing but wrinkle up your pretty face, dear."_

Madame Olenna had told her this once a long time ago before she had even met Willas. Those were the times she liked to remember the least.

_Don't go there._

Sansa blocked her mind from the icy glare of the emerald eyes that had started to form in her mind's eye again, and as always, when she fell into this circumstance,Sansa would quickly push it to the back of her mind, and started to think of something else instead.

She found herself pulling out an old memory of an eight year old version of herself and a six year old Arya holding hands as they sneaked into the kitchen and devoured a whole platter of lemon cakes,stuffing themselves silly until they got a tummy ache.

Oh did she miss those times.

Her train of thoughts went further away from Joffrey, as her subconscious methodically styled her auburn hair up into an elegant up-do, using pins that had flowers with tiny silver diamond petals on them, to hold it in place. It complemented her blue eyes nicely and once she had touched up her make up and scanned herself from head to toe (and was pleased with the way she looked), Sansa set the timer of her wristwatch to ten minutes.

_ 10:15 am._

_Okay. I have time to check up on Gendry. The wedding commences at 11, I can style all the bridesmaids' hair in a jiffy..and Arya should be back in exactly ten minutes, and if she doesn't...no,she will, Sansa. She will._

But there was this irksome, nagging feeling that said so otherwise.

But Sansa, paid it no mind, took a deep breath, exhaled, and strode her way downstairs, in search for the bridesmaids.

_Just this once..  
Everything will be fine, right?_

Wrong.

* * *

**CLICHES EVERYWHERE. I'm sorry for that..and I have to admit that I feel like I didn't do a very good job with Sansa's POV..but I'm trying. And editing was a really big pain in the assbutt...I hope I haven't gone OOC with Sansa.. It was kind of fun to write her side of this story. I decided to put in a little part where Sansa envied how Arya was so much more Stark-ish that she was , because I don't know I thought it would be nice to have Sansa envy Arya this time instead of how it's always been. Yeah..so, reviews? Thanks for reading! :)**

**And thanks for the favorites/follows/reviews! Ilysm!**

**AND 23 MORE DAYS TO SEASON 3! HOW EXCITED ARE YOU!1**


	3. A lady's choice,a gentleman's agreement

**I own nothing, all rights to GRRM.**

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**RICKON**

He was fine when mom had forced him into a crisp black suit, took away his Nintendo, and banned him from all electronics for this day. He was fine when she made him engage in small talk with the guests, when all he wanted was to be left alone.

But what he wouldn't stand for was locking up his German Shepherd.

Unlike the others, Shaggydog was meant to roam about freely on his own with the cool air roughing up his shaggy, jet black fur and the wind carrying his loud and happy barks. He was the wild one of the pack and Rickon wasn't one to strip his furry companion from the freedom his boisterous behavior needed to exhaust. He felt that locking his great dog up, would actually make him more agitated and peeved. But the worse part of it, Rickon noted, was the damage Shaggydog would cause when he would finally have the space to run.

That was what everyone seemed to be forgetting. They seemed to have forgotten the fact that Shaggydog was like a full bottle of Coke, and locking him up was the mentos mint that would rile him up into an anticipated explosion when he gets released.

The room occupying the six of them, was a guest room that had never been used, (because it was the smallest and most unappealing guest room in the whole house), that was right behind the kitchen. And it wasn't that small and confining at all. Instead, the room was spacious, with bright topaz walls and dark mahogany parquet. The door to this room, was sandwiched between the refrigerator and the kitchen island by the amber walls, completely out of sight.

And yet, as Rickon reassured himself that Shaggydog will at least have enough room to move about, he couldn't help feeling horrible for doing that to his best friend. And nobody could blame him if he wanted to sulk and brood here all day, on the patio and away from all these guests. He surveyed his surroundings, and the same sight would greet him; guests mingling and drinking from fancy champagne glasses with Strongwine, Arborwine and whatever fancy wine they had in them.

He fancied beer himself, but since he was underage his mom had assigned Luwin to keep an eye on whatever he was consuming. That meant he could only drink water or apple cider and it sucked because when he tried to discreetly grab a glass of wine, the waiters would grab his wrist to stop him, and offer him apple cider instead.

It sucked because this damn event sucked.

Rickon sighed and chastised himself for thinking that.  
He loved his sister, and Gendry was a cool guy but if he wasn't stripped of all his electronics and his dog, he might actually enjoy Arya's wedding.

But the people here, these business socialites and the jaunty air of obnoxious superiority they had around them made him sick to the stomach. Yeah, he was the son of a business socialite, but he didn't think himself high and mighty like these people were.

He had heard enough tutting and gossip and criticism in the time he went about to greet these people, whom mom claimed to be "close friends".

_Close friends my arse._

This was SO boring and he couldn't help groaning every five seconds because there was nothing to do. And it was only.. 10:20 am!

_Gods._

He had 30 minutes to burn before he had to be seated next to his mom and dad in the first row of seats. He sure as hell isn't looking forward to that.

_Maybe I could go and play with Shaggydog for awhile..but no, even from here I can feel Luwin watching me..dammit why'd you have to be so loyal?_

He looked around and surveyed his surroundings again. People were still mingling and admiring Sansa's work, and he felt like a small child given how everyone attending this wedding was above 20.

He did see Edric and Shireen Baratheon talking to Jojen and he wanted to join them because they were closer to his age than the others, but he was feeling so angsty and annoyed at everything! The cool air, the fucking decorations, the chatters and that bloody band playing that bloody song.

_Romeo take me somewhere we can be alone  
I'll be waiting all there's left to do is run  
You'll be the prince and I'll be the princess  
It's a love story baby just say yes.  
_

_Arya, why did you agree to this song?_

The band, Bears and the Maiden fair, (which included three guys and a female lead singer), continued with the song just right beside him on the patio. At first he thought it was a pretty good spot to hide behind their equipment, but then it just got annoying, because the speakers were so loud. Rickon groaned, and felt a pair of eyes on him. Sure enough, Luwin was smiling at him from behind a buffet table, at least fifty feet away from his brooding self.

Having quite enough of this, he waved mockingly and headed through the sliding doors to escape this hell. Everyone was outside, (save for the bride, groom, Sansa and Jon), and all he had in his head was seeing himself on his soft, warm bed and out of this stupid suit.

He glanced at his watch, preparing to take the risk. It was 10:25 am and he could just lay on his bed with the suit on for awhile.

_Yeah..that would be so ni-_

"Rickon! Psst..Hey! Rickon!"  
He turned to find who the susurrus belonged to, and found Arya.

In her wedding dress.

Hiding, behind a pillar across the room, by the front door.

_This cannot be good._

"Arya? What are you doing? How are you here? Sansa?!" He was sputtering, eyes wide in bewilderment, earning an eye roll from his sister.

"Come here you idiot!" She hissed loud enough for him to hear.

His legs seemed to do the moving, although he felt completely paralyzed from head to toe. Sansa wasn't one to let her radar down. How did Arya even escape Sansa's radar?

"Close your mouth you look like an idiot." She laughed.

Although Arya was 24 and he, 16, he towered over her petite, slender stature by a good foot.

"What are you doing?!" He asked cautiously,with a deep sense of foreboding, positive that he wouldn't like her answer. Arya was always creating trouble in their family, but when she had left for college, her mischievousness dwindled and he took over.

He watched as she sighed with her brows knitted together and her eyes shut tight.

"Okay, I need you to help me. Can you help me?" She craved, her stormy eyes were now pleading up at him.

"Depends. Would I be in trouble?" He inquired.

Arya rolled her eyes again, and conceded.

"Well, yes because what I'm asking you to do would be pretty damaging and you'd get in so much trouble for sure-"

"Wait, wait, wait. So whatever you're planning, you want me to take the blame? Wholly?" He asked, incredulous.

"YES. Will you please just do it!" She hissed into his face.

Rickon chuckled before answering. "Okay, okay! What do you need me to do?"

Arya's smile wasn't the normal mischievous one that he had picked up from in his younger days; it was a sad one, as if she was reluctant to do whatever she was about to get him to do. Her eyes searched behind him, probably to check if there was anyone around before she explained.

"Okay, I need you to let the dogs out." She said in a low,shaky voice.

In a different situation, Rickon would've belt out the song and make a joke out of it. But the look on his sister's face and the way she was acting so secretive and mysterious only made him surprised. Not to mention how much trouble he'd be in with both Sansa and mom.

"Are you mental? Mom would kill me and Sansa woul-" He was ready to back out, his mind already forming morbid images of Sansa decapitating him and mom sticking his head onto a spike.

"I know! Just listen, I need you to do this for me, Rickon, please. I just..I need this distraction.." She breathed.

He eyed his sister suspiciously, noting the urgency and quiver in her voice.

_What was she up to?_

Arya didn't look like she wanted to explain anything further, and her expression peeved as she waited impatiently for his answer. He was worried that something was wrong. Come to think of it, it was 10:26 and Arya had no business roaming the house at this time. She should be in her room, waiting to be called..but she is the bride, and he felt he shouldn't question her motives since Sansa frequently reminded them all yesterday, that it was **her** (Arya's) day.

"Okay! Fine, I'll do it. No strings attached." He offered.

Her expression softened as a huge grin crept onto her face.

"Really? You don't want money? Or for me to do your chores for a month?"

It was his turn to roll his eyes.

"Yes,as tempting as that sounds..you don't have to do any of those. So before I change my mind, what do you want me to do?" He questioned.

"Well," she began, "There are six very agitated, very excitable dogs in that room, and I'm thinking they'd like to chase each other outside in such a nice weather. And I know where mom keeps the key, so...I need you to-"

"Yeah, I get the gist."

"Brilliant. The key's between the pages of _Pride & Prejudic_e on the bookshelf in the living room. Set them free, exactly five minutes after I leave. Okay? Five minutes.."she bossed, holding up five slender fingers and waving them in his face.

He nodded in assent, thrilled that he finally had something to do, even if he'd get berated and chastised for this. He imagined his mother banishing him to his room, where he'd be left with all his electronics and the quiet isolation. And he could finally shrug off this stupid suit. Maybe he'd get grounded for a week or two by mom and be lectured by Sansa.

But Arya was the bride, and this was her wedding.

And Rickon would not deny himself the simple pleasures of enjoying the havoc he would soon cause.

He timed his watch to 10:32 am, the minute Arya fled from his sight. Swiftly, Rickon made his way to the living room, noting an empty champagne glass on their glass coffee table, and his mother's phone sitting beside each other. He scanned his surroundings,heart beating wildly as he made sure his mom wasn't in the room.

Once he was sure of it, waves of relief washed over him and Rickon made his way to the mahogany book shelf right beside their 42 inch plasma TV and pulled out the book with, _Pride & Prejudice_, printed finely on its spine.

There was a soft thunk when he shook the book. Rickon glanced down to his feet, to see a small bronze key sitting on the maroon carpet.

_Perfect._

In the distance, he could hear his mom announce that the ceremony will begin in 20 minutes, and explaining something about the wedding table and not to forget to sign the guestbook, and take the favours that included sunscreen, electronic fans and mini bug sprays.

He glanced at the time on his watch.

_10:34 am._

_He had approximately 3 more minutes to let the German Shepherds out._

_I wonder if Arya's already gone wherever she meant to go._

But Rickon had a strange feeling about it, and he was never one to feel strongly about the heavy sense of foreboding clawing at his insides. But it was Arya's day, and she could do whatever the hell she wanted to.

The best men, and the bridesmaids should be by the altar at exactly 10:50 am. They had all been lectured by both mom and Sansa many times, and soon, his father would be standing by the sliding doors to the backyard to get ready and walk Arya down the aisle.

Almost ninja-like, Rickon sped to the unused guest room where the dogs were locked up. And even without pressing his ear against the door, he could hear soft whimpering and low growls and he wondered if Shaggydog and Nymeria had been fighting again.

He opened the door slowly, careful not to let all six dogs streaming out all at once and bounding for the outdoors.

But he had underestimated just how excitable and agitated they were. No scratch that, he underestimated his siblings's dogs, and how they too, were equivalent to a full, pressurized bottle of coke, with the mentos mint at the bottom, and effervescence building up at the mouth of the bottle; ready to explode.

For the moment he was opening the door to take a peek inside, a black snout popped out into view, followed by a series of nudges at the back of the door and loud, ecstatic barks.

_Seven hells._

The door barged open and sent him sprawling,face first, onto the floor. Once he sat up, a flash of grey, white and black whizzed before him and Rickon watched as a white tail disappeared out of the kitchen doorway. Their barks echoed through the empty house, and he could hear them bounding away from him as their barks became softer and softer.

There was nothing but faint barks for awhile, until Rickon heard the faint sound of cymbals crashing to the floor, followed immediately after, by a loud thud and a shrill shriek that must have been the mic.

As if on cue, faint shrieks and cusses could be heard, mixed with the sound of furniture falling to the ground. Rickon knew that their dogs had more discipline than that, and he hoped that they had only sent the chairs and outdoor tables tumbling down, instead of the buffet tables that he meant to pig out from.

He peered out from the kitchen window, and saw Cersei Baratheon, in her shimmering, red cocktail dress backing away, her eyes wide with horror, and her mouth ajar. This was the first time he had ever seen Gendry's stepmother with a candid expression on her face, and couldn't help laughing manically at the way she kept waving her matching red purse at an arms length in front of her, as an attempt to wave away an approaching Ghost.

He could hear Margery Tyrell screaming her head off, her brown hair that was styled into an elegant up-do, coming loose as she ran like an escaped convict to seek refuge inside the house. As she was about to reach the steps leading to the patio, she tripped and fell face first onto the ground. From here, Rickon could almost hear her wail as she spat out a mouthful of dirt and grass. Some of it seemed to have stained her pretty blue dress and Margery seemed more concerned about it than her fall, for she had yelped at the sight of the dark stain at the upper part of her dress, and was frantically trying to rid the dirt with her equally dirty hands.

Everyone else seemed to be backing away, watching with dazed and alarmed expressions on their faces. He had to admit that their dogs were rather fearsome due to their size and since their guests had never been surrounded by all six of them at once like so, it must be pretty terrifying to see them all chasing each other and approaching people cautiously. He searched for his siblings, his stomach churning with a deep need to see their reactions. He couldn't see where Bran was, but Rickon spotted a bug-eyed Robb, whistling and calling Grey Wind to him with Jeyne mirroring his actions, only she looked just about ready to faint.

He felt slightly guilty for putting Robb through that, and causing the humiliation his family must be feeling, but it was Arya's wishes, and today was **her** day after all, and what the bride wants, she gets.

So he averted his gaze to Robert Baratheon, keen for the guilt to dissipate. The man was red in the face and sitting up from where he had fallen. He appeared to have spilled some wine on him, for there was a large red stain on the front of his shirt and his beard was damp with the liquid. His father was aiding the plump man up to his feet.

It had done the trick because Rickon was already in a fit of laughter. He knew it wasn't nice to laugh at the misfortune of others, but he couldn't help it! Some of these people were awful, and he watched, still laughing, as Madame Olenna used poor Willas (who looked so dazed and confused at the change of scene), as a shield, backing away slowly from Shaggydog who bolted passed them without so much as a glance. But it was Loras' reaction that made him fall to the ground, laughing hysterically and clutching at his sides.

Loras, in that terribly bright yellow suit of his, was running from an excited Nymeria with his long, lean arms up in the air, eyes wide with hysteria. Renly was chasing after Nymeria, waving what appeared to be a stick of bacon as if to divert her away from Loras.

It was truly a sight to behold.

But as he was busy laughing at the guests reactions, he hadn't noticed the dogs changing their course, or an angry Luwin who had spotted him.

When he thought he heard his name being called out amidst the pandemonium, Rickon was back on his feet and was soon bolting back inside the house, determined to get to the safe confines of his room before someone discovered him.

"Rickon."

It was his mother's voice, and it was dripping with fury.

He halted to a stop, one foot already on the first step of their grand staircase. He turned around to see his mother's glowering expression ever-present on her normally schooled face.

Oh he was in such deep shit.

_Seven hells, Arya, I hope this was worth it.._

* * *

**AN**

**I just wanted to emphasize how Arya needed the distraction. I realized how confusing this might be, because of the time. So, to clear things up, the wedding officially begins at 11 am. In Cat's Pov, it takes place around 9-ish. And in Sansa's pov, it's just one hour later..about 10-ish as is Rickon's. Bran's chapter is up next.. I didn't mean to make Rickon sound mean in that bit where he laughs at the mess he made, but yeah..I don't know I just went with it.**

**Oh, and sorry this took so long..so,reviews? Thanks for reading! :)**


	4. Once upon seven dreams

**OMG i'm so sorry this took forever, i've been really busy lately with school stuff and admin stuff and yadayadayadayada! SO HERE IT IS! Contains some spoilers from ADWD!**

**I own nothing. All rights to George.**

* * *

**BRAN**

_Seven Hells._

Brandon Stark woke up with a start.

The last of his dreams faded away as he grew more and more awake; his iPhone going ballistic right next to his formerly resting head.

Bran's heart was beating wildly in its place, and even in the cool atmosphere of the living room, he was sweating copiously. His t-shirt was soaked in it, his hair looked like he had came out of a shower, and his forehead was caked with more cold sweat.

He felt himself shaking, his fingers trembling as his mind replayed image after image of that dream.

_The dream. What kind of a dream was that? _

Jojen stirred at the ruckus his phone was making.

Mindlessly, Bran picked it up, swiped at the screen and answered the call. His vision was still clouded and thus he had not seen who the caller was, if he had, Bran could have at least prepared himself for what was to come.

"Hello?" He breathed into the phone. There was a momentary pause, before his mother's voice boomed into his right ear.

"BRANDON! Are you only just awake?"

He winced, bringing the phone away from his ear as he did so.

_Seven Hells.._

"What? _What time is_..."

He glanced at the clock above the 32 inch plasma TV, and –

"OH. MY. GODS. MUM I OVERSLEPT! I"M SORRY I LOST TRACK OF..." He nudged at Jojen's ribs, earning a grunt from him, until he sat up, inhaled sharply and mouthed, "what?"

"_wake up_...I'LL BE THERE SOON MUM. LOVE YOU, BYE.._holy shit_..."

"Brandon! We do not swear in this-" But he hung up before she could scold him any further.

It was 9:30 a.m. and he was to be at Winterfell 25 minutes ago..

_What was I even doing last night?!_

_Oh right, Avengers.._

Meera got hold of The Avengers DVD with special features. And It wasn't their fault that the movie was so darn good that they ended up watching it twice in one night.

_Wow our priorities need some work._

He nudged at Jojen again, who had fallen back to sleep on the floor next to him. Meera was still sleeping soundly on the cream couch. They had all crashed in the living room for the night; as they had only moved in together just four days ago and thought it would be fun to abandon their comfy beds for the lumpiness of the couch and the scratchy carpeted floor.

The movie had started at 11 that night, and honestly, none of them knew what time they had fallen asleep. He was sure he was the last to stay awake since he could hear the Reeds' soft snores by the second time Clint was attacking Natasha.

Bran scanned his surroundings as Jojen finally got up.

Littered everywhere around their previously sleeping positions, were packets of junk food, half a bowl of popcorn, an empty pizza box with bits of crust in it and three bottles of Mountain dew.

Jojen made his way into the kitchen, frowning at the mess they had made the night before.

"Who wants the shower first?" The youngest Reed yelled from the kitchen as he grabbed a trash bag from one of the unpacked boxes labelled, _Kitchen, _written in Meera's lazy scrawl.

Meera had woken up from her slumber, her eyes were narrow slits as they shot daggers at Jojen.

"Jojen, is there any reason for you to yell so loudly at..SHIT"

Her eyes were now fixated on the clock, as she grew less and less disorientated. Bran watched Meera's arched eyebrows slowly knit together, eyes averted its gaze from the clock to the carpeted floor to look at nothing in particular; as she worried her bottom lip between her teeth. This was a clear sign that Meera was woking the gears in her mind. That was what Bran gleaned about Meera after all those years of being best friends with her.

"Okay..umm..I'll go take a shower, you and Jojen go get your clothes and we'll all change in the car." She was already up and at it and was rushing to the bathroom they all shared as she assigned them their tasks. As she disappeared behind the walls of their hallway, so did her voice.

Bran didn't realise he had been staring at the spot where her fingers had glided across the pillar at the entrance of their hallway, until Jojen nudged at him and handed him a trash bag. He jumped slightly and eyed his best friend, who seemed unfazed by the lingering looks his best friend was giving his elder sister.

_Either that or he doesn't seem to notice at all. _

He studied Jojen's face for awhile, to search for signs of discomfort or annoyance as he picked up the trash around him. But as always, his expression was deadpanned. Meera was still in the shower by the time the carpet was clear of trash,save for some crumbs and stains they would have to clean later. Bran immediately thought of the lack of cleaning supplies in their household, and made a mental note to get some from a store later.

But for now, all he had to worry about was Sansa's wrath.

She didn't condone tardiness at all. Especially when it concerned a major event like a wedding. Bran, who was already back in his wheelchair, could not quite unsee Sansa's rage from yesterday morning.

He had never witnessed Sansa in a blistering rage like that before. And it was truly terrifying. Her normally calm features were overcome with an icy rage, as if she was letting out years of suppressed anger unto them. Her blue eyes were alight with fire, and her face flushed a deep red as she yelled at them all. It was the most intense five minute lecture he had ever experienced. Nobody dared to look Sansa in the eye, and even Arya looked ashamed.

"Mate, c'mon!" Jojen's voice broke him out of his trance as he disappeared behind the walls of the hallway.

"Meera, hand me my toothbrush and Bran's!" He yelled, while simultaneously rapping at the wooden bathroom door.

"Give me a minute!" Her muffled voice replied. He could hear a slight irritation in her voice, as if she was trying hard to be quick.

Bran made his way past an impatient Jojen and went straight into his room, which was the at the end of the small corridor. There was exactly three rooms in their new apartment, with only one bathroom for them to share, a kitchen (which had a scenic view of the woods and the view of a river opening to the sea beyond) and a spacious living room with soon to be replaced, scratchy carpeted floors.

And of course they hadn't unpacked any of their boxes yet.

While Bran had claimed the room at the end of the corridor, Jojen claimed the room beside the living room on the right side of the apartment, while Meera took the room to the left of his, which was much closer to the bathroom. His room was not as spacious as the one he had in Winterfell, but he liked it all the same.

It had wooden mahogany floorboards and pale blue walls, with a french window overlooking the river of Saltspear. Jojen's had the same view as in the living room's,which had a nice view of the main Kingsroad below. Though it was noisy during peak hours, Jojen didn't seem to be disturbed by it at all. That was what he liked most about Jojen; how he was content with what he had.

Among all three rooms, Meera's room smelled the most redolent, given how her room was closest to the woods below. The earthy smell would often waft in and mix with the salty air of the oceans and Bran had secretly liked how the smell had managed to cling on to her even though it had only been four days of their stay.

_The Neck_, was a quaint apartment and had won them over all three at first sight. It had white-washed walls, with gold French windows and glass doors that lead to the inside. The only thing missing, Bran noted, was the old amiable doorman by the glass doors he often saw in the movies.

There were many things he liked about the _The Neck_. But what he absolutely, unequivocally loved was how cozy and inviting the main lobby was. With its opulent carpeted floors that he was sure his mom or Sansa would've recognized at a glance, a grand chandelier hanging from a high white ceiling, and the tapestries on the wall which told epics of the medieval ages and the renaissance of Westeros, there was hardly anything to not like.

Meera and Jojen had liked the apartment in their own way. But the most salient being how it had a an earthy feel to it, that made them feel right at home.

Bran managed to fish out his suit from a box on his bed, as his mind replayed the days they had all went scouring for apartments. Although _The Neck_ was pretty close to the Reeds' childhood home, they didn't mind so much that it was not exactly a change of scene. On the plus side, Winterfell was only a twenty minute drive away.

Winterfell. The Heart tree..

In a blink of an eye, Bran's dream came back to his mind's eye, and once again, his skin crawled, and the room suddenly grew as chilly as the winds of Winterfell.

It was uncanny.

It was uncanny how he had had the same recurring dreams for the past seven days. And it was always the same dark-haired woman with pale skin, garbed in an ivory dress. And gyrating her in a neat circle, were wolves of massive size.

The first three times he had this dream, Bran merely thought nothing of it, dismissing it as something of little significance.

But as he continued having these dreams for four consecutive nights, the dreams became more and more vivid and palpable to the extent that he could hear and smell everything. He would hear the rustling of the Heart tree's crimson leaves and the earthy smell of the woods not so far away. He could hear the woman making soft noises, though try as he might, he couldn't tell what she was doing.

For in his dreams, the woman was an unrecognizable blur. Bran had managed to surmise that she was indeed a woman, by the way she moved gracefully, although with blurry distortion. Her movements were more agile and fluid and Bran associated this to the grace often seen in athletes.

And only one person came to his mind…

_Dark-haired woman, with the grace of an athlete and garbed in an ivory dress?_ It could take even the most simple-minded person he knew to piece this together.

Was it really a coincidence now that he realized the woman could actually be Arya? Who else did he know could move like a cat, and who else did he know was preparing for a wedding? Would this be a deja vu then?

_But it might still be just a harmless little dream, Bran.._

But he seriously doubted that.

For one thing, how could he have seven consecutive dreams in a row, about a woman he knew to be Arya, and wolves who had the same hides as his family's dogs, and not be a normal thing?

The dreams were hardly insignificant, Bran knew that now. And as he dreamt the same dream for the seventh time, he had wondered why his vantage point was a little odd. He had looked up towards the clear blue sky and his eyes had followed the massive white branches of the Heart tree that branched out to crack the sky.

He figured that he was probably watching from below the shade of the great tree, until he had tried to move his head, but was restricted from doing so. He tried to move his arms and legs, but found that he couldn't move at all.

Bran found it odd that he could see the branches of the tree, feel its presence, but couldn't turn around to see it. That was when a sudden little inkling in his loins gave him an answer.

_Am I the Heart tree? _

He looked towards the sky again and watched the crimson leaves shimmy in a sudden gentle breeze, and Bran could've sworn he could feel them. As if they were dancing right on his fingertips.

This was not just odd, or uncanny, it was abnormal.

It was the kind of thing that would've happen to characters in Nan's stories.

Nan had been his nanny when he was younger, and boy was she a raconteur. She had the best stories to tell him, and although his mother had frowned upon filling his head with fictional tales, he would always find a way to get a story out of her. His mother doted on him the most, and he used that advantage to keep Nan sitting by his bed and telling him tales from eons ago, when dragons roamed the earth and knights fought for a maiden's hand.

_Well it was a dream, and anything was possible.._

Bran decided to think nothing more of it at the same time the wolves started slowing down. He took this chance to count them and came to the same number after counting them three times.

_Six._

_Six wolves with the same hides as our dogs. _

_Coincidence? I think not._

Bran had ignored the growing paranoia of a déjà vu happening.

And as he slowly became more and more aware of the oddity of his dream, he felt himself withdraw from the scene, the wolves were already stopping, while the Arya-look-alike mumbled a string of incoherent words.

It was then he heard the faintest sound of music right by his right eardrum. Bran had no time to think any further of it as he felt himself being dragged away from the scene below. All the while, the music grew louder and louder as he was being pulled up and away into the sky. There was no doubt in his mind that it was, _To Dartmoor, _from the BBC Sherlock soundtrack playing.

AKA, his ringtone.

"Bran, what are you doing? It's 9:40 come on!" Jojen's face appeared in his doorway, his brown hair, wet and tousled.

"Do you really expect me to shower? It could take a while!" He replied, slightly annoyed that they had forgotten the drawbacks that came with his disability.

"Oh, right..how about you bathe at Winterfell?! It wouldn't take us so long then." He suggested, eye brows knitted together and looking pensive as he always had when he was thinking something up.

"I guess that's better...but my mum-" He was cut off by loud honking coming from below.

"Meera's already in the car. We'll wet your hair, come on, Bran." He beckoned with a slight nod towards the main door with his head.

"Alright.." He mumbled, his suit had creases at the back, but given how he would be in his wheelchair all day, no one would notice, and therefore he shouldn't bother with it.

Jojen had disapeared into some part of the apartment, or he had probably gone down, that was what he thought until he walked to the back of Bran's wheelchair, with his suit pants on and his shirt untucked and tie-less. His blazer was draped onto one side of his shoulder while his green tie hung about his neck.

"What are you-" But Jojen cut him off by misting Bran's dark mop of a hair with a spray bottle filled with water.

"Hey! A little warning next time!" He fumed.

"Sorry. There, it's wet enough slick it back so you'll look smart." He said as he made his way to the main door.

_Yes, mom._

Bran quickly slicked his hair back with his palms, after years of doing it, he found that he didn't need a mirror to guide him as he styled his dark hair in a manner his mother would approve.

Once he was done and out the door, Jojen took the liberty to shut the door behind them and lock it, before they made their way into the elevator. Bran could hear the faint sound of Meera honking through the bronze walls of the elevator.

When the elevator doors slid open, Jojen took hold of Bran's wheelchair and warned him to mind his feet before he dashed out of the automatic sliding doors, with,_The Neck, _on it. It was Meera's car they were taking, and he watched her step out of the driver's seat, in a pretty blue bridesmaid dress, her dark hair slightly wet as she made to open the boot of her beat up white Volkswagen beetle.

Jojen rushed to open the backseat of the car, and helped Bran into it before bringing his wheelchair to the boot. He didn't waste any more time and swiftly took off his Captain America shirt and replaced it with a white formal one. By the time he had buttoned it down, they were already driving out of the parking lot and onto the main Kingsroad. Meera had one hand on the steering wheel; the other was attempting to touch up on her lipstick. Jojen had started working on his tie and he did so expertly that he was done even before Bran could start on his. They were all working silently and Bran made sure that his tie was to tight or that his belt was buckled all the way, so that he could slip out of it easily to shower later.

Given his way, Bran wouldn't care to bathe at all. But as he would be in the presence of his mother and Sansa, he didn't want them to sniff him out and berate him in front of everybody. He was sure his mother and sister had things to worry about, and he really did not want to add himself to their lists.

But what he couldn't stand knowing, was how he would probably miss his chance to congratulate Arya and Gendry. There were many things that he liked about Gendry. And there were many more things he liked about Gendry being with Arya. He remembered how the two of them couldn't stand being in each other's presence when he had been younger and couldn't figure out the concept of love and its mysterious ways.

They would often get into arguments about the dumbest things. How this TV show was better than the other. How this team was much more skilled than the other. Nobody would hear the end of it. And because Gendry was stubborn and would stand by his opinions and reasons unyieldingly,and Arya had that edgy competitive drive to her, no one would admit defeat. Until Jon or Sansa would get annoyed and tell them to shut up and watch the damn show and both of them would seethe in silence. So it came to everyone's surprise how they had one day announced that they had started seeing each other.

What was more of a shock though, was Arya consenting to marriage.

He knew his fiery sister too well. She was too free-spirited, too opinionated to be tied down by marriage. But maybe age had mellowed her up to that idea. Or maybe it had been Gendry. Either way, he was happy for her.

He hadn't noticed that they had reached Winterfell manor until the cold bit at his nose. It was more comforting than annoying, and he realized how much he really missed being home. Bran had only visited during Christmas and whenever he could in his free time as a college student, but now that he was fresh out of University, with a BA in Human, Social and Political Sciences of Westeros, he could have all the free time in the world.

Meera drove up the driveway to his house, and he noticed an unfamiliar sleek black luxury Mercedes Benz sitting on one side of their massive driveway in front of their house, while Robb's black Cardillac, as polished as ever, occupied a spot on the other end of their driveway, closer to the entrance of their garden. He straightened his suit and blue tie but Bran had not cared to wear his fancy black shoes and opted to put on his red Chuck Taylors instead.

He smoothed his hair back one last time before Meera brought her car lurching to a stop right in front of the Mercedes, in a neat line. Meera slid out of her seat and rushed to the boot of her car. Jojen had already opened the backseat of the door and Bran could fully view how smart and dapper Jojen looked, despite the slight creases of his suit. He hoped he looked like that as well.

The last thing he wanted was for Mum to nag his ear off.

Meera and Jojen helped him into the wheelchair, did final touch ups, before they made their way to the garden.

Even from here, Bran could hear the faint sound of the dog's barking and he wondered if Summer was doing okay without him. He didn't want to move Summer into his new apartment until everything was set up and ready. It was like a sort of surprise for him, and Bran wanted his companion to have a few days more in Winterfell before he moves to a slightly lesser colder part of the North.

When they turned the corner to move into the garden, there was a waiter balancing a few glasses of assorted wine on a large silver tray that he held in one hand. He gave them a flashing smile, and offered them some. But Bran wasn't exactly a fan of the fancy wine his parents drank. It was too thick, too strong and it was too fruity for his taste.

It made him dizzy just thinking about it, and Meera and Jojen seem to share his taste for it, as they politely declined the drinks. They continued walking ahead, until the wedding came into view.

"Wow." All three of them simultaneously acknowledged the preparations and decorations that greeted them. It was so beautiful.

"Oh, wow, Sansa...Kudos to Sansa." He heard Meera utter in astonishment from his right.

"And here I thought her wedding in Highgarden was impossible to top, but as always, she outdid herself." Jojen acknowledged from behind him.

"I hire Sansa to decorate our apartment." Brain said.

"Second it." Meera agreed with a smile in her voice.

Their attention was then brought towards the buffet tables lining the right side of the garden and the smell was enough to make Bran drool on his fancy suit. He hadn't had breakfast and that chocolate and cheese fondue looked so damn appetising.

"Bran!"

All three of them turned their attention to a waving a Robb at what Bran concluded to be a dance floor. He spotted the Tyrells mingling with his father and Jeyne, and he wondered where his mother had gone off to. She wasn't one to miss greeting the guests. They waved back, and made their way silently to the small group.

Madamme Olenna was sitting on a chair at a round table with a name card that bore their family name in fine black print. Father towered over her, making small talk although Bran knew his father was probably hating every second of it. Loras and Margery were laughing at something Robb said, while Jeyne conversed animatedly with Willas. The band's equipment were set up, but he couldn't see any of the band members at all. What he did spot was a brooding Stark by one of the large speakers on the patio.

It took him awhile to reach the group, and Jojen excused himself to chat with Willas. They were huge nerds and at every event, Bran would never fail to catch them chatting with their eyes wide and nodding excitedly at what the other said far away from the group. Upon seeing Meera, Margery squealed in excitement that made him wince. He watched, with pity, as Margery dragged Meera away into the house, all while going on about something he knew Meera didn't care for.

Loras laughed at his sister's enthusiasm and when he spotted Bran, he acknowledged him with open arms.

"Bran! You look...well you've had better days I suppose. Anyway, what have you been up to?" Loras inquired loudly. Bran smiled before replying.

"Just settling into my new apartment."

"No kidding! Where is this, oh you should've gone to me if you were looking for really grand apartments and lofts!" He asserted.

_Well, if I was Sansa I would have..._

"It's called T_he Neck_. It's about twenty minutes or so from here on South." He replied, feeling self-conscious about how it might not be as grand and high-end as Loras' apartments.

"The Neck? Can't say i've heard of it...well, it must be very quaint then. Grown tired of the North?" He joked as Robb and Jeyne laughed heartily.

"Oh, Loras stop it. I bet Bran wants to go see his family now. I don't think you've seen Arya, have you?" Jeyne asked.

"Yeah, I've been meaning to congratulate her and Gendry both. Um, excuse me.." He muttered and smiled weakly at them before he wheeled himself toward the steps of the patio.

"Bran! Let me help you with that." Robb rushed up to him, and he felt his brother carry him in his wheelchair onto the patio. He exhaled after setting him down in front of the drum set. On it, bore a really cool print with the name of the band.

"Alright there,Rickon?" He head himself ask as Robb made to push him into the house. Robb paused, looking for Rickon.

"Yeah, hey Bran." He acknowledged before going back to his brooding demeanour.

"What's with him?" he asked, concerned.

"Pissed at mum because she locked up Shaggydog I reckon." He replied, his voice flat as if he too didn't seem to be too happy with that.

"How's Summer?" He inquired with excitement.

"Summer's fine! I guess he misses you though. He's always sleeping by the Heart tree these-" Bran turned to look up at his brother, whose face was scrunched up.

"Gods, you smell like you rolled about in a trash can." He acknowledged with a laugh.

Bran rolled his eyes, and explained, "yeah, I overslept and I meant to take a bath here instead. I'll need your help, obviously."

"Okay lil bro, only because you haven't been around for a long time. Plus you're in luck 'cause mum's napping." He said with a smile.

"Mum? Napping when there are guests around? Is she okay?" He questioned as Robb pushed him to a common bathroom on the first floor of their house.

"Yeah, she's fine. I think she's just exhausted."He replied reassuringly as he helped bring Bran's wheelchair closer to the bathtub.

"I'll be fine." He said, waving off Robb who was trying to help him into the bathtub.

"Alright then. I'll be outside the door if you need anything." He walked out of the large bathroom, and shut the door tight behind him. Bran was skilled in the art of using his upper-body strength to get him in or out of anything, and getting into a bathtub didn't hurt so much like it used to when he was younger. He stripped himself from the fancy suit, and got himself into the bathtub with ease.

Bran was left to mull over his thoughts, and of course, what else would he be thinking about but that dream he had. He hadn't quite experienced something like that before and wondered if this was some kind of premonition. Of course it probably wasn't but c'mon. That dream was really super weird.

He scrubbed himself pink with soap and made sure his hair had gone through at least one round of shampoo. He kept thinking about the Arya in his dreams, and kept thinking about the possibilities of this being a deja vu thing. But he honestly didn't know.

"Bran hurry up! More people are coming!" His brother's muffled voice and the rapping at the door intruded his mind palace.

It took him twenty minutes or so to dry himself and get into his suit, which by now was as creasy as ever and bedewed with flecks of suds.

He slicked his hair back with some gel he found sitting by the sink, before wiping his hands and knocking on the door for Robb to open. His brother was trying hard not to look irritated, and that was what he always got tired of. The fact that they had to treat him like a fragile little thing who'll crumble at the hands of absolutely anything and everything.

But he didn't want to feel like that on Arya's wedding. He would be happy today.

_And while i'm on the subject of Arya.._

_"_Robb, do you mind carry-"

"BRANDON STARK."

Busted.

"Hi mum.." He greeted her warily.

"You're on your own buddy." Robb chuckled before dashing back to the garden.

His mother looked more than just merely exhausted. She looked completely worn out and wired. She looked more tired than angry, and the way she sighed every five seconds told him how she probably was having an aching headache.

"Look at your suit! If I wasn't still so tired, I wouldn't let you hear the end of it. Oh, go on then, I'll let this one slide." She pecked his cheek before she went in search for a mirror to fix her hair. Bran could hear more chattering coming from outside and he wondered how the hell he was supposed to get to the garden now.

Carefully, Bran wheeled himself to the ledge of their back doorway entering the garden. The band members, who included a girl and four guys, with the fashion sense of the common Westerosi hipster, were checking their equipment. He craned his neck to look for Rickon, and thank gods he was still brooding there by himself.

"Rickon! Rickon!" He waved his right arm at his brother until he caught Rickon's attention.

He made his way over to him while he dragged his feet behind him.

"What?" He asked, his voice flat and his expression, bored.

"Help me to the garden will you?Pleeeassee" He pleaded up at him, mocking Margery's high-pitched voice whenever she wanted a favor.

The corners of Rickon's lips curved up slightly, before he nodded.

Silently, Rickon wheeled him down the ledge, and like Robb had, carried him in his wheelchair down the steps of the patio. He heard a deep throaty laughter to his left and spun to see Gendry's dad and his father catching up on old times. Cersei Lannister was seated four tables away from Lady Olenna, and neither one of them bothered to acknowledge the other's presence. Willas and Jojen were now chatting with Gendry's younger brother, Edric while Meera and Margery were already back and talking to Loras and Renly. Unlike Loras, Renly wasn't wearing a bright suit that made his eyes hurt, but his suit was jus as eye-catching as Loras'. Mya Baratheon was conversing with Robb and Jeyne, a glass of arbor wine in her hand. He had seen all of this before. The mingling, the catching up and the socialising. It was the same thing every time their family held a celebration or an event, and the same people would surround him.

He liked some of his family's friends, but some others, he really wished would leave. He watched the people chatting away, until he caught Meera's eye. He smiled at her, and she grinned back with a slight roll of her eyes. He gave her a,"i know what you mean" look before deciding to go to his family's table, nearest to the dance floor.

Bran spent most of his time sitting by himself as more people piled into their backyard. He would nod and wave or smile at the guests as they made eye contact with him and he was glad that at least Rickon was having a sucky time too. He watched Stannis, walking with a soldier's posture up to his father to give him a firm handshake,Shireen and her mother right beside him. His mother's friend, Brienne, who became quick friends with Arya, had walked in awkwardly. She was wearing a rather nice blue dress that accentuated her eyes. Bran waved at her and watched her features relax as she smiled back and made her way to him.

"Hello Bran." She greeted him warmly before accepting a seat next to him.

"You look nice." He acknowledged. She smiled warmly at him, and patted his shoulder.

"Thank you. Oh, I heard you graduated a few weeks back, any plans?" She asked.

"Not really. I just got an apartment with Meera and Jojen not far from here. I still haven't quite gotten used to being an adult yet."He admitted with a laugh.

"Yeah, that was me as well..but then you'll learn to adapt quickly. I'm sure you'll be fine." She assured with a smile before excusing herself to greet his mother.

Things were going okay as far as he was concerned, and the music wasn't too bad either. He glanced at his watch for the fifth time in the last 10 seconds.

It was still only 10:32 and he was really growing restless just sitting here. He could probably join Willas and Jojen in their conversation, but he didn't want to interrupt them and they were so far away. There wasn't that much to do and he was now the only one sitting at the tables. His father was now talking to both Robert and his uncle Edmure. He spotted his mother chatting with Cersei with a serious look on her face.

He watched everyone mingling about, and having quite enough of it, Bran withdrew himself from the scene and decided to circle the house and fall in love with the area again. Just as he was about to turn the corner of the house, and away from the garden, loud barks caught his attention and stopped him dead in his tracks.

SEVEN. HELLS.

Six German Shephards had leapt out from behind the band, cutting the song they were playing off, and two of them crashed into the equipment, while the great black dog sprinted about, three others on its tail. Cymbals crashed onto the floor of the patio, and the mike boomed and shrieked at it's fall. People were backing away, some screaming as the dogs chased after them.

It was absolute chaos.  
Guests were running away, tables and chairs had fallen over, others were being pursued by the dogs and Bran found himself watching dumbfounded by the sidelines. Summer seemed to have spotted him, and when he did, he whizzed past guests, and knocked over Robert Bratheon sending a glass of red wine spilling all over him. His barks echoed through the garden, and this led to five other dogs folowing suit. Soon he found himself desperately wheeling himself away from them.

"SUMMER. NO STOP! STOP! BAD DOG! BAD-OOF!" He fell face first onto their driveway that lead to their massive garage. It was obstructed by foliage and was not easily spotted unless you were looking down from above. His wheelchair toppled over him, and Bran was so concerned over his situation that he hadn't noticed the dogs running ahead of him.

"GODS! WHAT THE HELL."

His sister's voice made him look up, and his mind thought these exact two things: 1) Why is she not inside at this time? 2) Arya looked absolutely stunning. But the two meddled up together and he found himself utterly speechless as he stared at the scene before him.

_Now this. This is oddly familiar._

Like he had dreamt that night before, the dogs weren't exactly circling her, but they were all surrounding her and nudging at her softly, yearning for pats and rubs. Her shock was evident on her face, as Nymeria rubbed herself against Arya's legs.

_So this is deja vu? AM I psychic?_

_Seven hells what is going on.._

He sat himself up, his head throbbing with the many questions flooding his mind. Arya had ran up to him and silently pulled him back into his wheelchair. He turned his attention to his sister, who knelt in front of him, looking as crestfallen as ever. He figured out what his sister was doing, and Bran felt so very very sorry for Gendry.

Bran tried not to jump to conclusions but SEVEN HELLS. She couldn't do this to Gendry.

"You can't do this to Gendry." The words rolled off his tongue,rushed and serious. She looked up at him, squinted as the sun drank her eyes in, before turning her attention to the pebbled road. She played with a tiny clover, picking its leaves off with her nails before she answered.

"I know, Bran. I know."

"Then don't do this?!" He nearly yelled his head off. Bran couldn't believe how stupid she was being. He knew his sister was impulsive at times and that she often followed her heart but Bran couldn't believe what she was doing.

"You don't get it Bran! I am not marriage material! However hard I try to imagine myself having my own family, I don't see myself with a swelling belly reading a fucking pregnancy book by the window waiting for my husband to come home with dinner in the oven, while my other child is at soccer practice! No! Okay? I see Gendry and I just watching DVDs and old movies in a nice apartment and we forget to pay the bills sometimes and we eat nothing but take out. And I realize how shitty of a wife I will be. You don't get it Bran." Her assertion was vehement and her eyes were already clouding with tears that were threatening to fall.

He wanted so much to be able to hug her properly and be that little brother who would take part of the weight of her shoulders and give her one of his lemoncakes, but they weren't kids anymore. He was about to comfort her, when the sound of heavy footsteps caught both of their attentions. The dogs were chasing each other and rolling about,and the two were frozen for a moment.

"Crap!" Arya groaned. Her eyes scanned the surroundings, and widened when they spotted a place between the bushes to hide. She moved so swiftly and quietly and hid perfectly from view. Bran swivelled himself around, preparing to face the pursuer. Robb was jogging up to him, clearly annoyed.

"Bran?" Robb panted. "Are you all right?"

He checked himself for any bruises and shook his head sombrely.

"Mum caught Rickon freeing them..he is in so much trouble it's not even funny." Robb admitted as he started pushing Bran towards the dogs.

"Wanna help me put the dogs back in?" He sighed after a few seconds of silence.

"NO! Not yet, please? I haven't seen Summer for ages, and look! He misses me too! They all miss me. I'll bring them in myself, in a short while, I promise." He begged.

Bran watched his brother's expression softened, and he knew that he was probably acting under mum's orders, but all Bran could think of was the stupid dream materialising like it had before, and how Arya was running away.

"Alright then..do you want me to stay?" He asked.

"No I'll just text you if I need help.." He reassured his brother. Robb sighed and half-jogged his way back to the garden. He wondered how Sansa was right now.

She's definitely bound to flip. How could she not? All her hard work, a mess.

As soon as the coast was clear, Bran heard Arya walking up to him. He continued stroking Summer's head, as his sister sat down next to his great dog.

"What should I do, Bran?" She sounded so scared, so self-concious , so unlike the Arya he knew.

"What does your heart say?" He asked, noting how cheesy it sounds, but he felt she needed to know anyway.

"I..I dunno. I guess it tells me.. it tells me..so many things." She frowned. Bran knew his sister too well, and he understood how scary it probably was to commit to a lifelong relationship. But this was Gendry and Arya.

They were a match made in heaven, he was certain they were. They balanced each other out, and yet they could be total opposites as well.

He had witnessed them in their exchanges, noticed how their pupils dilates at the sight of the other, it was unequivocal, to everyone, that they were madly in love. He would notice all sorts of things whenever they attended parties and dinners, and he thought it was nice how Arya had someone like him. SO of course he hadn't understood why she was doing what she as doing, until she shed some light on it.

Bran stayed silent for a moment, merely contemplating, until he finally thought of a better way to deal with this.

"Okay, what do you plan to do exactly?" He inquired urgently.

"I just thought I could use a drive..be alone for awhile?" She replied earnestly.

"What if you do that, and I'll tell everyone about this and once you get back, you decide if you want to go through with this or not.." He suggested.

Arya pondered for awhile, clearly not liking the fact that she had to face everyone.

"Yeah, that sounds like an okay plan." She replied with a heavy voice. "Thank you, Bran." She pecked his cheek, stroked Nymeria's head, before running to wards the garage.

_Why the hell did I suggest to break the news? She needed it..and I trust she would be back..and if she doesn't, well we have a huge party and it won't be that difficult to find her._

Bran mentally prepared what he was going to say, especially to their parents. Nobody was going to like this one bit, Gendry most of all. He made his way to to the front of the house, up the ramp they had installed when he had broken his legs, the dogs following after him. They were obedient for the most part, and felt sorry that they had to be locked up again..but he bet the guests were traumatized as it is.

Bran found Luwin by the door to the patio, his expression sombre as he brought away a dustpan with broken shards of champagne glasses.

"How is it out there?" He asked, concerned.

"Terrible. Your guests are still quite shaken and Ms Margery is not happy at the state of her dress. They're growing restless..the wedding should've begun already." Luwin replied, his expression solemn.

He watched the band assemble their instruments together, heard mother berating Rickon from somewhere upstairs, and his father apologising profusely for the incident and assuring them that the wedding would soon begin. His eyes followed Sansa, looking distressed and peeved, as if she was looking for-

_Shit. I HAVE TO DEAL WITH SANSA SEVN FUCKING HELLS_

He sat frozen in his wheelchair as his sister, marched over to their father, whispered something in his ear and watched as they both shared a dark, distressed look. Ned Stark nodded solemnly, before patting Sansa on the shoulder and headed to the mike.

_Oh no._

Bran swiflty wheeled himself around the music equipment on their large patio, and beat his father to the mike, attracting attention from several of their guests. He paid them no mind, as his father approached him with a pensive look on his face.

"What's going on Bran?" He muttered softly as the lead singer continued belting out the lyrics to Nada Surf's, _Inside of love,_ as she tried her best to ignore the two Starks beside her.

He exhaled deeply before telling him everything, all the while searching for signs of disappointment or annoyance but so far, he was fruitless. His father's expression remained schooled throughout their short exchange.

Afterwards, he frowned slightly, wiped the sweat from his forehead and replied solemnly, "I'll tell the guests. It'll be best if you stayed inside and comfort Sansa. Your sister is very upset."

Bran did as he was told, noting how far Arya must be by now, he hoped and prayed with all his heart that his sister would keep her part of the plan going, although Bran was unsure if she would or not.

He could hear the cacophony as some guests voiced their disapproval as he sat silently beside Sansa, her head shoved between her hands as she sulked silently. Bran noted that his mother, Jon and Gendry were absent from the scene, and they were the three people who were less likely to react lightly to Arya's situation. Bran huffed in exhaustion and leaned back further into his wheelchair just thinking about their reactions.

_Gods, be good.._

* * *

**Yes I know it's really long! Again, I'm really sorry for the long wait, and I do hope some of you guys are still interested in reading this, ilysm! **

**Oh, leave a review or constructive ****criticism maybe? Thank you! Up next is Jon's chapter! **

**(Oh and I'm also working on another gendry/arya oneshot/short fic in which they are tumblr users who are yet to meet each other..so if you're up for that I may post it once I'm done with it..  
**


	5. The best man

**I own nothing, all rights to George!**

* * *

**JON**

_10:30 am_.

He sighed heavily, got up from the stool and made his way to the open window overlooking the Godswood where the wedding was being held.

Both Arya and Gendry had liked the idea of getting married in the Godswood. Jon had to agree since it was wide enough for a wedding to be held. But, he was convinced it was because there was something mystifying and enchanting about their large backyard and it seemed the perfect place for Arya's wedding.

Down below, he could see everyone mingling as they waited for the ceremony to begin.

Jojen Reed was having an animated discussion with Willas Tyrell, Renly and Loras were passing flirtatious looks from across each other as Renly conversed with Margery and Loras with Cersei. Catelyn Stark was simultaneously welcoming the Mormonts while talking to Olenna Tyrell, his father brought a glass of wine to Uncle Benjen and Robert Baratheon, and Jon watched Mya, and Edric laughing at something Jeyne said to Robb.

The other guests were mingling about; some were dancing to the live music, others sitting at the assigned seats trying their best to be patient.

He was watching everything from the fourth floor, noting how nice it looked from above. Jon could hear the faint lyrics to an indie song, distant chatters and the susurry of the gentle breeze as they rustled the leaves of the trees.

He removed himself from the scene, and turned back to his best friend, finally able to get his thoughts together.

"Don't you love her?"

Jon knew the answer, but the question flew from his lips anyway.

A frown greeted him, and his electric blue eyes met Jon's grey ones, swimming with utter disbelief. He was clearly upset that Jon would question his undying love for Arya. But Jon realized he needed to know - wanted to know that he loved his little sister enough to go through with the wedding.

"You know I do, Jon." Gendry asserted gruffly.

_So why the cold feet?_

"You've got cold feet."

It was more of a statement than a question, but Jon expected him to answer all the same. Gendry was silent for a while, and it was only thirty minutes before his wedding - and he chose now to have his pre-show jitters.

"I'm just nervous. That's all." His reassurance was too forced and Jon suspected that Gendry could hear it too.

"Nervous? Uh...have you not noticed the open bar downstairs?" Jon laughed.

Gendry wasn't the kind of person who got easily anxious. Eversince they were kids the guy would take on something with as much confidence, head-on. And to see him like this, sulking in the armchair taking swigs of beer every now and again and groaning in obvious discomfort, left Jon very amused.

But Gendry wasn't in the mood for it and didn't appreciate Jon's teasing as he slumped further into the plush purple armchair, downed the whole bottle of beer and huffed in frustration, all while scowling at Jon who was getting a kick at his best friends current demeanor.

"Yeah, go on then, laugh all you want Stark. You're my only best friend, alcohol." He cradled the now empty bottle, before thudding it down onto a round mahogany table.

It was scary how Gendry reminded Jon of Robert sometimes, and he decided suggesting alochol to calm his nerves would be a horrible thing to do, so as subtly as he could, Jon kicked the remaining carton of beer bottles under a desk.

He sighed and brought the stool he was sitting on, closer to his best friend so that he was close enough to smell the musky cologne he had on.

"Okay, so you're nervous. It's all right, mate! People get nervous on their wedding day all the time! I bet Arya's just as nervous as you are!" He affirmed.

This seemed to stir something in Gendry as he sat up straighter and his expression mellowed.

"Well, at least she'll be in the hands of Sansa, who in my opinion, wouldn't be doing such a piss poor job at comforting like you." He joked.

"I'm trying! But you're right. You know I could just call Sansa here but I bet she's busy enough with Arya. And everyone else is making sure things are going fine outside, so I'm the only one you've got now." Jon admitted.

He watched as Gendry settled back into the armchair, trying his best to relax.

"Okay, so the wedding is only in about…26 minutes time and most of the guests have arrived so you still have time to calm yourself! We can play Cyvasse until then?" Jon said while nodding towards the direction of the Cyvasse table in the corner of the room.

But Gendry merely frowned and shook his head.

"Too nervous… and you'll beat my ass." He muttered.

"I can get Rickon's Nintendo from the game room if you want." Jon offered, doubting his own words.

Rickon was possessive and hard to persuade, unless you were someone he loved fiercely, but Jon had thought Rickon liked Gendry enough.

"I think I need some air." Gendry decided and made to get out of the chair until Jon blokced him with his arms just in time.

"Not a chance, mate. Sansa says you have to stay in this room until your wedding and if you so much as step out of the doorway she'll have my head on a spike." Jon shivered uncomfortably as he remembered Sansa's outburst.

Sansa had been the one who had organized everything and the day before, when the wrong wedding cake appeared and the flowers came late, she was snapping at everything and everyone. Jon had been at the receiving end of her yelling when she came to remind him that the bride and groom weren't allowed to see each other or to step out of their respective rooms. Jon could not unsee the malicious blue fire in her eyes, the way she'd snarl her words, hissed her threats with her face going as red as her fiery hair.

He had agreed so in horror.

An angry Sansa was a frightening thing to behold and he did not want to be at the receiving end of it ever again.

As he reminded himself of the previous day's events, Jon realized that the distant sound of music playing was replaced with the sounds of ebullient barks, four stories down below.

_Not good._

The both of them exchanged curious looks and simulatneously jumped out of their seats and rushed to the window overlooking the garden below and –

_SEVEN FUCKING HELLS_.

The six massive dogs were thrashing the whole place.  
Tables and chairs were sent crashing down onto the freshly mowed grass, he knew because he had spent the whole of yesterday's morning mowing it. Peole were screaming, some were running, and he watched as Ghost approached a frightened Cersei in a red dress.

_Seven hells…_

Jon found himself completely transfixed with the scene below, all the while feeling waves of horror wash over him, as he imagined Sansa and Catelyn's likely reactions to this.

_Nobody would hear the end of it, especially not the culprit. _

"Which idiot-"

Jon cut himself off, as his attention averted abruptly from the mess the dogs have made, to the single line of dogs chasing Bran in his wheelchair. He could vaguely hear what Bran was saying, and watched in horror as his half-brother stumbled on something and crashed onto the gravelled road behind some foliage.

_Shit. _

Jon's first instinct was to dash to Bran's aid, but somehow, he just could not move from his spot. The whole wedding was ruined, and knowing Arya, she would flip, though ironically, not as much as Sansa would.

He could hear Mrs Catelyn handling the situation as she calmed the guests down. Waiters and ushers were frantically and dutifully putting eveything back in order as the guests looked around, sightly disorientated.

Down below, he spotted Robb, walking hotfootedly to Bran's direction, his eyes followed ahead and right on the gravelled path, leading to their family's hidden garage were the six dogs running and rolling about, with Bran in his wheelchair, and Arya Stark in her wedding dress.

WHAT. IN . THE. SeVEN. HELLS.

Jon turned around in such haste; he gave himself a slight headache, and lost his footing as he stumbled on his own legs.

Gendry was still looking out the window, his expression turning grave, as if his worst nightmares have materialised before him.

Jon was at a loss of what to do, if Gendry so much as turns his head to the left, he would see Arya in clear daylight, where she isn't meant to be, and theu guy would flip.

_I dare say even more than Sansa…_

But he didn't have to wait that long to test that theory, because Gendry had averted his gaze from the wedding, to where Bran was, and of course, he did not take it lightly.

* * *

_11:11 am_.

_Dammit. Gods damn damn damn…_

Of course he wouldn't take it lightly, and it was not his fault that he was completely caught off guard when he dashed after Arya, leaving Jon paralysed with the sudden turn of events.

The two was always doing impulsive things, and if Jon didn't know any better, it was as if they were trying to out-win the other in spontaneity and recklessness.

_Though Arya still wins head on in that section._

He recalled a time when he first brought Gendry over from school to work on their science volcano project, and Arya had wanted to help since Jon had told her they were going to make it explode. It was the worst idea ever, and Jon swore never again to bring Gendry to their home.

Gendry had wanted the volcano to have a natural brown colour like the ones in their Science textbook, to which Arya scoffed and claimed how it would look nicer and special if it was blue. To which Gendry pointed out that volcanoes weren't blue and Arya was not old enough to be a part of this project. So the both of them ended up arguing about how stupid the other was, until Arya challenged him to a wrestling match and Gendry being Gendry, had agreed after she prodded and poked at how he was too cowardly to fight a girl.

Nobody won because Catelyn had pulled them apart and berated Arya all the way back to her room, while Gendry was offered a platter of warm cookies and a glass of orange juice. He had sat in Arya's room that night, listening to her rant on and on about how Jon shouldn't have befriended Gendry and how he was stupid and dumb. He was only 10 then, and Arya was only 7.

And it was nine years of bickering and arguing and debating and nobody ever heard the end of it, until one day, they strolled in and announced they were seeing each other. It was fucking ridiculous, and at first everyone thought it was a joke they were pulling until they started openly ogling each other. He didn't know exactly what made them get together, although he had his suspicions.

Jon shook off the past and his current anxiety before collecting himself. Being at the Wall prepared him for any and every circumstance and how was this situation any different from the ones he was training for?

Although, yes it did call for the more delicate hands of Sansa or Catelyn, but he had seen Arya, and Gendry was his responsibility and now he had to take charge-full on into this warzone.

His mind made a mental checklist, as he subconciously, and fluidly pulled out his phone form his pants pocket. His fingers skilfully and violently danced on the keypad as he dialled Gendry's number.

On two rings, he picked up.

"I WILL FUCKING SET GHOST ON YOUR ARSE." He threatened.

He heared Gendry huff and pant and Jon looked out the window to see Robb walking back to the direction of the house, while Arya unveiled herself from behind a bush.

"Look, I don't know why Arya isn't in her room. I don't know what's going on, but it doesn't look good. If she's running, I have to know why."

"Wait…where are you exactly?" He inquired, his mind already forming images of his sister and best friend bumping into each other in front of an incensed Sansa.

Come to think of it, how did Arya slip out from under Sansa's nose? Sansa's radar was usually sharp and she was never one to let her guard down.

"I'm taking a shortcut to the garage. Where do you think she was heading to, if not the garage? "

"There's a shortcut to the garage?" Jon replied instantly.

"Dude, I'll tell you about that some other time! I'm almost there. Just stall as much as you need to." He ended the call, and Jon found himself cussing into the dead line.

Right at that very moment, the door to the guest room swung open with a loud bang, and a distressed Sansa in a light blue bridesmaids dress entered the room. She opened her mouth to say something when her blue eyes scanned the room and noticed Gendry's absence.

Jon watched, his heart beating wildly in its place as she shut her eyes and furrowed her brow and muttered something under her breath.

"Jon, where is Gendry?" She hissed through pearly, perfect, gritted teeth, eyebrows rising in confusion.

"He needed to get some air to calm his nerves, but I'm sure he'll be back soon, Sansa." He lied, deadpanned.

"Perfect. Just flipping perfect." She huffed out, her voice quivering as she plopped onto the mahogany stool he was sitting in just moments ago.

Sansa sobbed into her palms, rubbing feverishly at her eyes as her cheeks and the tips of her ears grew a faint crimson.

He had seen this before, when they were younger and Arya had kicked a ball at Sansa's head. Jon had been the one to comfort Sansa, finding her in the kitchen stuffing her face with lemoncakes, as she rubbed the angry tears from her eyes.

"I try so hard…and it always. She always…" Sansa sniffed and blubbered to herself.

Jon found himself paralysed for a mere second, before he pulled another stool right beside Sansa.

"Hey, Sansa it's fine…it's not anyone's fault, Arya…Arya's probably really scared." He consoled.

The truth is she probably was scared. If he knew Arya at all, he'd know that her fiery spirit and her open mind were probably giving her a hard time.

He remembered how she had once condemned marriage and how she would never let anyone tie her down to the suburnan trophy wife life.

But that had been a different time, before Arya had even met Gendry. And Jon was sure she had her reasons for freaking out. Arya and Gendry were, he believed, meant for each other.

They fit together like a puzzle piece, although they could be complete opposites sometimes. Ygritte had pointed that out once, laughing at them as they bickered about whatever they were always bickering about. She had found them adorable, and he suspected that she had been the one who had brought the two together with a simple comment. Ygritte was the best. But all good things must come to an end.

When she left, he was in a deep, depressive funk and he never wanted to get out of it. He couldn't eat properly or sleep properly and he knew he sounded like a whiny, clingy, lovesick puppy, but he had loved Ygritte a lot and how else was he supposed to react when she decided to leave him one day?

They had their fights too, and usually it was about how he was so keen to commit to all of his time to the Wall and being so patriotic, when she believed that humans were not meant to be tied down to material posessions and that they were free folk. Ygritte believed in a lot of things, she felt strongly about a lot of things and although she was not exactly a looker, Jon had fallen madly in love with her all the same. She kept his mind open for the longest time, exposing him to new things, and he remembered how her favourite catchphrase was always, "You know nothing, Jon Snow."

He had no idea where the 'Snow' came from, and when he did ask, she merely shrugged and said it had a nice ring to it before they made out in the back of his car.

_Stop. Don't go there._

Jon really did not want to think about Ygritte right now. He had spent day after miserable day thinking about little Ygritte quirks, and the weird little habbits she had, or even how the red curls of her Merida-esque hair illuminated under the sun. He did not want that to happen to either Arya or Gendry. And decided to leave them both a message. But before he could do so, Jon had an itch that wouldn't go away in the pits of his stomach.

"Sansa, are you all right?" He asked before voicing his intent.

"Yeah. I just, it's been a really long week." She sighed, her voice dripping with a quite weariness.

"Okay. How are things downstairs?" He finally inquired.

Sansa paused for a while, looking up at him, deadpanned.

"Terrible. In fact that's why I came up here. You can imagine how mad everyone is. Mom, Mrs Baratheon, Madamme Tyrell, Margery and just everyone in general. Dad is not dealing with it very well." She admitted solemnly.

"So, what do we do now?" He asked, sullenly.

With a gloomy sigh, Sansa replied softly,

"We wait for Arya's decision."

* * *

**Okay, this chapter is really short compared to Bran's, and I know you guys are getting antsy for more Gendry/Arya, don't fret! Gendry's pov is up next, guaranteed fluff and other things so...you might want to stay tune for that :)**

**Reviews would make my day! :) Thanks for reading!**


	6. Okay

**It's been a long time, my old friends..**

**yes i know this took forever. My apologies! Busy busy busy..**

**All rights to GRRM!**

* * *

**GENDRY**

_YOU KNOW TIME CRAWLS ON WHEN YOU"RE WAITING FOR THE SONG TO START SO DANCE ALONE TO THE BEAT OF YOUR HEART…_

_**HEY YOUNG BLOOD**_

_**DOESN'T IT FEEL, LIKE OUR TIME IS RUNNING OUT **_

_**I'M GONNA CHANGE YOU LIKE A REMIX,**_

_**GONNA RAISE YOU LIKE A PHEO-**_

He followed her finger as she hit the stop button.

"Before you even say anything, my doing this has nothing to do with the degree of how much I love you or not. I love you Gendry, I do. And all I want is to clear my mind. That's…that's all."

Her voice ripped through the terse silence that had settled uncomfortably between them. Gendry didn't reply, and continued staring out the window, watching as they whizzed past tree after tree, his mind no longer able to put a finger on how further North or South they were.

He didn't care to know.

Arya's assurance hung still in the air, but Gendry was still somewhat fuming. He wasn't entirely mad, he was so confused and a little upset that she ran from their wedding. He was a little mad that she would not explain why she was doing what she was doing. He was hurt. He was heartbroken. He was lost, annoyed, and crestfallen.

Alhtough her assurance had managed to calm him down a little, Gendry refused to be okay with this. He had been freaking out the whole time he ran after her, his mind going ballistic with assumptions and what-if's.

_What could be so bad that she'd run away from our wedding?_

_Is it me, then?_

"Are you running from me?"

She rolled her eyes, before answering.

"I can't run away from you if I'm bringing you with me, can I?"

"Then why, Arya?'" He asked through gritted teeth.

"I…I…I'll tell you once we get there." She muttered her reply and continued focusing intensely on the empty road ahead.

Gendry Baratheon was still in the process of figuring the enigma that was his fiancee.

The thing about Arya Stark was that she was never one for gooey mushy lovey dovey things or compliments about her appearance, especially if they made her blush madly.

Compliment her on her wits; she'll treat you to a movie. Compliment her on her agility and passion for sports, she'll be nicer to you than the nicest person you've ever known.

But compliment her on her smile and the way her eyes would shine when she talked about the things she loved, she'd push you to the ground so hard and forcing you to take it back, all in a blink of an eye. He liked how feisty she was.

And how she made him laugh so easily.

He especially like how they could debate about the most important things and the most dumbest things at the same time, how her hand felt warm in his, how she trusted him so easily. But it was her fierce loyalty to her loved ones that Gendry loved the most.

But there was a time where Gendry Baratheon could not stand her. Her voice, her personality, everything about Arya Stark used to drive him mad in a bad way.

When he was younger, he would frequent the Starks' home for projects and homework since he was basically best bros with Jon. But then he'd had met Arya Stark, the loud mouth who couldn't leave them to their work for even a second.

She had literally followed them everywhere and talked their ears off, although Jon didn't seem to be disturbed by that.

But boy did he find her annoying.

And then one day, that one damned day he and Arya became friends.

Being the son of a Businessman, Gendry was constantly brought to events and parties that he didn't care for. Mya shared his distaste for these high-end parties although Joffrey basked in it. He'd be showing off and gloating about something to a flock of pretty girls.

And it was at one of his father's parties, did he and Arya Stark finally made peace.

There he was, bored out of his wits in some party in Highgarden, watching people mingle and drink fancy wine, and he had not exactly seen Arya Stark for quite some time. So when she walked in behind her family, Gendry was quite surprised to see, in the place of the annoying ten year old girl with short choppy hair, was this woman, in a dress, brooding to herself.

He had not bothered to initiate a conversation with her at first, until Catelyn pulled them onto the dancefloor and pushed them into a stance together, and into a big bubble of awkward. There he was, just looking down at this girl, who refused to meet his eyes. He had a hand on her waist, the other gripping her cold, slender hand. They were just in that pose for a few seconds, too surprised by the closeness of their bodies to move.

And then Arya had groaned in annoyance, pushed him away and stalked off away. Of course he had reason to be pissed at how rude she was, and stalked after her to the balcony.

He was just telling her off for being so rude and annoying, and the thing that surprised him was how she just took it without yelling back at him.

When he asked her why Arya just slumped onto the floor, in that black cocktail dress, and sighed.

"Not in the mood, Baratheon."

He had frowned at her reply, although he had found it funny.

"Arya Stark, not in the mood for a good scream-off? How odd." He had replied and slumped down next to her.

They ended up talking for a while until Arya got bored and suggested doing some things, which included:

Turning random objects in the Tyrell's household upside down without anyone noticing,

Going under different aliases and talking about unjust Hogwarts house stereotypes in terrible Braavosi accents to the business socialites

Played the truth game in a small closet, which resulted in both of them getting drunk. And of course they were grounded for this.

But then they conitnued contacting each other, and she's hang out with him and Jon and watch movies. In all those times he had hung out with Arya, Gendry had never expected to fall in love with her. Not ever.

But he was glad he did.

He was gladder Catelyn pushed them both together.

"Say something…"

He snapped out of his trance, losing his train of thoughts, as he became hyperaware of his surroundings.

The car had stopped, and Arya was holding his hands gently in hers, her gorgeous liquid mercury eyes pleaidng up at him. She looked like she was pleading for her life.

Arya would never plead for her life. She would embrace anything and everything. And that was why it scared him.

A tear rolled down her cheek, and Gendry wiped it away with his thumb, bringing her face closer to his, until heir foreheads were touching.

"I do too."

"Do what?"

"I love you too."

With the _thud thud thud_ of their hearts, Gendry and Arya both inched closer and closer until their lips met, gliding smoothly against each other's. They had kissed many many times, and by now, their lips danced against each other's so skillfully, he could almost tell what Arya was going to do next.

He knew where Arya's soft spots were, and she, him. He knew where her kisses would linger the longest and deepest, he knew that if he nudged at her sealed lips, she'd part them for him and he'd plunge into the warmth and sweetness of Arya Stark.

Gendry pulled her into his lap as she inched closer, stradling him, with her legs wrapping themselves around his waist. He deepened the kiss, pulling her closer, as every, and all thought escaped from his mind.

Her fingers teased his hair, pulling them as she matched his pace with equal fervor.

He liked it when she did that.

He liked it so much his body would respond with a soft groan escaping from his throat, causing Arya to smile smugly against his lips.

Their breaths grew shallow and ragged as they conitnued pressing at each other's lips.

"This is hardly traditional." Arya muttered as she slowly pulled away.

Her half-lidded grey eyes were aglazed, her pupils dilated and he detected what he knew to be desire swimming in them.

"I never knew you abided to traditional customs." He replied coyly, stroking her cheek with the pad of his thumb.

"I don't, so fuck it." She panted as her hands worked at his tie.

Swiftly, she popped off the button of his collar and vigorously started working at the other buttons as he peppered the underside of her neck with kisses.

Arya went for the spot below his collarbone, kissing and nipping, nipping and kissing as she simultaneously worked on his pants, but he knew in her dress, this was going to be difficult.

What more was they were on a deserted road, to gods know where.

But Arya kept invading his thoughts with what she was doing with her hands.

Frustrated at the stubborn button, she stopped fumbling with it, grabbed him by the collar and was back to kissing him full on the mouth.

But this time more passionately. More agressively.

As she did so, she was grinding against him and he couldn't help as his member to stirred at the friction.

_GODS…WE"RE IN A CAR IN THE MIDDLE OF A ROA-_

He growled, feeling himself succumbing to her want.

Arya smiled her little smug smile against his jaw, and Gendry, having enough of her teasing, shifted her so that she was resting against the seat instead of him.

He kissed her with reckless want; their teeth clashed against each other's, their noses were bumping.

But they didn't care that they were going at it like wild rabbits in the passenger seat of the car.

It wasn't until they heard a car honk, and a loud; "fuck yeah" did they pull apart, bumping their foreheads together and listening to each other's ragged breathing as they composed themselves.

"Have I not complimented you on how beautiful you look today, my lady? " He teased.

"Your compliment is appreciated my good sir." She muttered, pecking a kiss at the corner of his mouth.

"Mmhmm…. So now what?" He inquired, laughing.

The mood shifted instantly, and it was scary how palpable it felt in the still air.

"Right. I forgot about the wedding." She groaned into his chest.

"What is it with you and weddings, Arya?" He asked, chuckling as she rested her forehead at the crook of his shoulder.

"I…I don't know. I…don't have anything against weddings, just…it's ours and I'm afraid."

"Of what?"

"I'm afraid of what people would say. I don't know if you've noticed but I'm not exactly trophy-wife material." She confessed.

_Oh Arya…_

He pulled her into a hug, breathing in the permanent earthy smell that had clung on to her skin. The smell of her hair reminded him of crabapples they used to throw at each toher.

"I really do not care if you're trophy-wife material. Arya, if I did, I would be marrying some rich man's boring daughter. "

"I am a rich man's daughter you idiot."

"Yeah but you're not exactly boring. I like my women feisty."

"Keep it in your pants, Baratheon." She pecked a kiss on his lips, before retreating back into the driver's seat.

"But…you're mental for wanting me as a wife." She continued, her cheeks flushing red.

He reached for her hand, gave it a quick kiss and muttered,

"So I am."

" Everyone's going to hate me." She muttered warily playing with his fingers.

"Are you that scared of getting married in front of them?" He laughed.

"You don't even know."

None of them spoke for a while after that. They were just sitting in silence, listening to the faint whirring of the air conditioner and each other's soft breathing.

"Remember when I poped the question?"

A smile formed on her slightly swollen lips.

"Yeah." She grinned at him.

"Well, you didn't hesitate then. You wanted to marry me Arya. You could've taken a step back, or push me away, but you said 'yes, stupid'. And we were surrounded by a lot of people. A lot. And you weren't afraid then, so why shoud you now?"

Arya stared at him, the grin getting wider with every word, giving him a new surge of confidence, and so he continued.

"Okay so you're scared…I was too. So, what if...What if we don't get married in front of all those people? What if we eloped, only we call down our families and closest friends. Nobody else. How about that?" He caressed her hand with his thumb, watching Arya closely for any sign of disapproval.

She smiled up at him. It wasn't a wide, "OMG THAT"S BRILLIANT I LOVE IT", it was a weak, sad smile that was a rare one to see.

"It's great, but I pretty much messed everything up. And Sansa…Gods..She put in so much effort into this…we should…we should go back. I should face them." She replied somberly.

"Okay."

"Okay."

* * *

**Okay, so I wanted to add some more smut, but I realise how bad I am at writing it, so I'll work on it, and maybe you'll get to see some in my upcoming fanfics.. I hope I didn't go OOC with either Arya or Gendry if I did, please tell me! Reviews are welcomed!**

**Thanks for reading ILYSM! More to come...**


	7. Little talks

**Hello lovelies! **

**I am so sorry for taking so long to update!( I admit I've been putting writing this off because it was hell to write, but here it is!)**

**Enjoy :)**

**I own nothing.**

* * *

**NED**

_**1:39 pm.**_

"Ned, it doesn't look like they're coming back. I'm worried."

Mr and Mrs Stark were conversing in hushed voices, keeping well away from the already dissipating crowd.

But what was he to say?

How could he assure his wife that his little wolf would come back?  
He knew she would, but sometimes you just never know with Arya.

"She will, Cat. Don't worry about it. I know she will."

His wife smiled, a small smile, but he could see the doubt clear in her tully blue eyes as she turned to return to Sansa's side.

At the end of it all, Ned pitied Sansa the most, given how she had been working hard to make everything run smoothly for the past months, weeks and days.  
And of course it wasn't a surprise at all that his eldest daughter did not take it well, when all her creation went tumbling down at the hands, or rather, paws of their six dogs.

The band, quite shaken by the hubbub, had left the event right after Catelyn welcomed all the guests to the food. In a situation like that, Ned found himself more concerned about Arya than their family reputation.

The mess from the chaos was being cleaned up before him, and he stayed watching until all the chairs were stacked up high, the carpet rolled up and all the decor left on one side to be taken away.

The streamers were the only ones left as they flapped in the gentle breeze, and Ned watched them leave invisible lines in the sky as he mulled over the events of this morning, wondering how something could go so wrong so quickly.

With Arya, he learned he should be expecting something like this.

His youngest had always been free-spirited, although she has mellowed a little with age, but with a spirit like that; it was difficult to ever beat it out of her.

_Not that I've tried to beat the spirit out of her, although Sansa surely has shed a thought on the matter. _

The whole living room was quiet, as everyone was either left alone pondering and waiting, or they were off in twos and threes to one side to converse in quiet voices about the disastrous wedding.

He was having a headache just scanning the room full of Starks, Baratheons, the remaining Tyrells and other friends of Starks. The rest have gone off, tutting and clucking at the delay.

His eyes landed on Bran who was sulking right beside Jojen and Meera Reed. He was fidgeting a lot in his suit, and he knew just how uncomfortable his son must be. Instantly, Ned scanned the room again for his youngest son, wondering if anyone has dealt with him yet.

Finding this excuse to leave the ever-growing tensing silence, he excused himself and left them all for Rickon's bedroom.

The room at the complete end of the the manor's west wing, had been occupied by the youngest Stark as he had taken a liking to the view he had of the Wolfswood. It wasn't the scenery so much as the sounds of the woods at night. He liked how sometimes he could hear owls hooting in the distance.

Ned knocked twice before letting himself in.

Rickon's room was exactly what you'd expect a typical teenage boy's room to look like. Messy, unkempt and should be inhabitable to all and every living thing. The dark purple walls were covered with posters of Rock bands from different generations,he could even recognize a few bands from his adolescent years.

There was Kiss, Aerosmith, Elvis, and The Beatles, and Ned was quite proud that his son had adopted an exquisite taste in music like he used to. Of course Rickon showed interest in other artists he didn't know like something called A Chemical Romance and some band Boys falling out.

As soon as he walked in, Ned noticed two things:

1) Rickon was not in his formal wear and was in fact wearing a ratty old Guns N' Roses shirt and a pair of bermudas.

2) He was playing with his Gameboy Nintendo?

The pure nonchalance on his young face and the fact that he didn't look the least bit worried about Arya, made the headache worse as he tried his utmost best to remain calm with his youngest.

Sighing deeply, Ned shut the door behind him and sat himself down at the foot of his bed.

"Rickon."

He watched his son put away the Nintendo and sit up straighter against his stack of pillows so he was facing him. His expression turned somber; guilty perhaps…

"Why did you do it?" He asked.

Rickon sighed deeply,pinching the space between his brows, clearly tired of explaining this.

But Ned still wanted to hear it himself, although he knew it wasn't entirely Rickon's fault.

"Dad, I swear it wasn't my idea." He replied.

"I know it wasn't. But you could have said no to your sister. You know how Arya is." He said again.

It had been years since he had talked like this to his children. What with Bran in his new apartment, with three of his kids already married/getting married. He quite missed those younger days when their dogs were wee little puppies and when Rickon wasn't as tall as he was.

"She'll be back, dad. I know Arya. When has she never been back?" Rickon explained, mistaking his silence for silent panicking.

"Takes a troublemaker to know another, it seems." He laughed lightly.

His sixteen year old smirked at that, ntomissing a chance to roll his eyes at his father – which was starting to feel hereditary.

They sat in silence for a while, listening to the rustle of leaves outside Rickon's opened window.

"Do you think Gendry will get tired of her...her…personality?" He voiced out, breaking the silence he was starting to enjoy.

Ned laughed at that, a hearty laugh he never had in ages.

It felt unlikely for Gendry to do that.

He could leave, but Gendry did not seem like the kind of man who would do that. Especially not to Arya.

Besides, they were Arya and Gendry, while his daughter was fiercely passionate and hotheaded; Gendry was stubborn and would not yield on anything he believes strongly in.

He had seen them argue a few times; on things that mattered and things that he felt was not as important, like which ice cream flavor was better.

He smiled at that.

"No, Rickon. I don't believe he would."

"Good, 'cause if he did, I'd kick his butt and.. other areas." He mumbled.

"Careful now. If Arya heard that she would kick your butt, and other areas." He added.

They laughed for a bit, and Ned relished this moment he had with his youngest son.

"Dad, mum, doesn't hate me, does she?" He asked, his voice dripping with worry and concern.

Now that…of course Cat couldn't hate him, but there was no denying the apparent disappointment on her face as she sent the boy to his room.

He thought she would break down right then and there by the sheer havoc and disarray the dogs had caused, but he had underestimated his wife.

Calmly, she had held her head high, strode out and handled the situation better than he could ever do.  
Cat was always the best at handling people and sorting things out.

A knock on Rickon's door broke his train of thoughts, and Jory, his personal bodyguard and right-hand-man, walked into the room with his expression devoid of all emotion.

"Sir, your daughter is on her way."

_Oh thank the Gods._

"Thank you, Jory. You can go home now, the wedding has been a disaster and Arya's not even here." He said lightly as Rickon left the room to wait for his sister.

"She made me promise to be here, Sir." He replied with a small smile.

"I appreciate it, Jory. Now go on then, have some wine, you're looking as stressed as I am."

"I blame your company, Sir." He chuckled before excusing himself.

He knew Jory was only teasing, but it didn't make him any less concern with the effect his presence brought to the people around him. He is after all, a powerful man, not as powerful as Robert, but still powerful.

But then again he was always worrying himself like this…

_Keep it together, Ned…_

But what he still couldn't stop working out was why his daughter ran away from her own wedding. It was in fact, the general conversation topic for the remaining guests below. But he didn't want to waste his time with mere whispers.

Ned wanted to know the truth, and if that meant he had to interrogate both Arya and Gendry before they finally got properly married, then so be it.

_**2:13 pm**_

Arya's room looked a lot like Rickon's in the way Rock posters were pinned and plastered on all four, turquoise walls. There were more books in her room than in Rickon's (which largely held more computer games and graphic novels), and of course both rooms were similar with the mess of clothes that littered the polished wooden parquet.

But Arya's room seemed to have the lingering scent of dogs and the smell of what he learnt was nail polish.

"Dad. I don't know how many times I have to tell people this. It's not that I don't love Gendry. I was just afraid."

She did in fact sound as if she had been repeating herself a lot today, and it was a relief to him that Gendry was not the problem, because Ned had like the boy.

He gave Arya room to be her fiery, temperamental self and never did anything she never wanted him to, while not simultaneously letting her control him. He was actively interested in politics and it was good enough to Ned that he graduated University with a degree in Fine Arts.

And it was a bonus that he could call her out when she was being too harsh or unreasonable.

No one could come in and have that same impact on Arya.

"Afraid of what?" He finally asked, in the quiet of her room.

"Stupid things. Of being a wife a potential mum, not being able to be a mum, not being able to be proper or supportive." She voiced, and he could hear how tired she sounded in that white wedding dress.

"Oh my sweet girl. I'm sure Gendry has tried to wipe all that from you. But you listen to me my wildling princess. He will love you. He wasn't angry when you ran off was he?"

She shook her head, her hair already spilling out of it's place.

"Good. That is how it should be. So I need you to be Arya. Be my normal, usual Arya and be Gendry's normal, usual Arya and not worry about a single thing like you never do."

She smiled, rolling her eyes as she did so.

"I do worry about things, dad."

"I know. But today, think of nothing but why you love that boy. It'll be much easier that way." He pecked her on her forehead and left Arya in the room to collect her thoughts.

He had to walk to the other end of the house to Robb's room to speak with Gendry. Being a family friend, he didn't feel out of place in the Stark's household and Ned could see that in the way he was sitting on Robb's bed stroking the fur of the great grey dog that had taken to curl up around him.

"Mr. Stark."

He made to get up, but was met with a growl by Grey Wind who was clearly enjoying Gendry's company.

The lad was sitting nervously, and for a man of his stature, it was odd to see him looking so worried and nervous.

"I didn't mean for that to happen, Sir." He started, trying his best to avoid looking at him.

Ned chuckled as he sat down beside him, earning a surprised look from him.

"Nobody meant for it to happen. Arya's just Arya and you'd have to expect the unpredictable with her around."

There was a knowing smile on his face, Ned was certain he knew that, but people often forgot that little trait his daughter had, thus making them easily irascible with her.

"Tell me, Gendry, and tell me true. You would never leave my daughter would you?" He asked lightly, trying his best to school his features to look less solemn.

"No sir, of course I wouldn't do that." He responded, frowning.

"That's all I need to know." He admitted, patting him on the shoulder as he got up.

"Come now, lad. The day is young, people are waiting and winter is coming."

* * *

**This chapter is a short one, so hang in there if you're still reading on! **

**You can expect the last two chapters pretty soon. ( I promise it would be really soon)**

**Arya's chapter will cover the make-up wedding, and then we'll have Robb's POV **

**Thank you so much for your patience, reviews/favs/follows! :) :)**


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